You Are Not Alone
by chocolatemud14
Summary: The sequel to Life is Beautiful. Nine years into the future, Lucas and Peyton's girl Ella Scott is back: older, smarter, and stronger than ever. Now that she is fully aware of her physical disability, Ella must face it in triumph and in struggle. When her world begins to crumble, Ella tries to put it back together again, and help her parents find one another in love. *HIATUS*
1. Prologue

_Here we go! The beginning to another beginning. If you are a new reader, welcome! But if you have not read Life is Beautiful, I recommend you take a quick look at it before continuing on with its sequel :) It's a great read, I promise. Just so you're not confused or anything...it will be assumed you know what's going on :) I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think, I'm a little nervous, but in a good way. _

_You'll figure everything out as you go along. But basically: flashbacks are italics. The POV does switch from Ella's (our main protagonist) to third person. Anytime I switch BACK to Ella's POV, you'll see this: -x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x- which are Ella's initials in the break line. _

_Ready? _

**Things Don't Always Turn Out That Way **

_Prologue _

_June 8th, 2026_

_Now I'm just wondering why you think  
that you can get to me with anything  
seems like you'd know by now  
When and how I get down  
And with all that I've been through,  
I'm still around _

_It's way too gorgeous a day to be stuck in school, _was the only thought in my head above the music spilling in my ears. I try not to look out the window at the gorgeous blue sky because then it'll just depress me. Instead, I work ferociously through these embarrassingly easy worksheets while occasionally looking at the clock in front of me. Only 15 more minutes left in this Spanish class and last period is over. Only a few more weeks left and 8th Grade, middle school, is over. Holy crap.

Despite Michael Jackson's music blasting- so I don't have to hear the camaraderie of my classmates as they do everything _other than _their work- I hear my name being chanted by the whole class. I thought I was just imagining things until I felt somebody throw an eraser at my shoulder.

I pull my red ear bud out of my ear reluctantly and Michael Jackson's voice fades into a murmur. "Wait, what?"

My classmate Sheff, the one who threw the eraser, laughs. He always thought it amusing that I'm constantly listening to music. "You won!"

"Won what?"

Mr. Alvarez chuckles and kneels by my desk to tell me quietly. Today, he's wearing black trousers and a navy jacket with elbow suede patches. His hazel eyes sparkle just a little bit, and I think he's saying he's proud of me. "Ella, you won the vote for Student Speaker at Graduation."

My eyebrows raise and for a minute, I don't say a thing. I knew that students were asked to nominate one student to represent them and speak at Graduation (so not really a Valedictorian, but lets be real, you might as well call me that), but I completely forgot about it. I never thought I would actually be considered until Katie, Catherine, and Robbie found me in the hallway and told me they voted for me. A week or two later, I found out I was one of three candidates to speak. And now…I guess I won. "Oh, wow. Really?"

Mr. Alvarez shakes his head and laughs. I know exactly what he's thinking. "Don't look so surprised. You've always managed to shine in this mess." When all I gave him was a little smile, Mr. Alvarez looks at me until I meet his gaze. "_Me entiendes?" _

"Yes, I understand you."

Just after I turned six, my parents decided they wanted me to learn another language. Apparently a child can learn a new language faster and easier than an adult can. Also, according to my Dad, "Spanish was going to be the dominant language by 2050" so my parents did everything they could to make sure I learned Spanish as a child. They bought bi-lingual books, television programs, flashcards, anything they could think of. They had my babysitter, Maria, only speak Spanish to me until I was forced to respond, embarrass myself, and eventually learn it. Ever since then, I've been fascinated by the language and its surrounding culture. I took it upon myself to buy elementary level books (I was _elated_ when I could read the first page of the Spanish version of Louis Sachar's _Holes _and understand almost everything) and of course, I listen to Spanish music. It's helped me so much with proper pronunciation of the words, among other things. Plus, I really enjoy listening to it.

"I thought our agreement was that you'd only speak Spanish to me in class," I tell Mr. Alvarez with a smile.

"I guess I slipped." He smiles and his eyes are sparkling. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. I'm going to miss you, Mr. A." I hand him the completed three worksheets he only gave me to do ten minutes ago. "I'm done with these."

Mr. A laughed and took the sheets from me. "Ella, I don't think my class will ever be the same without you."

"I'm sure you will be fine. When's Graduation again?"

"June 22nd."

I stare at him, blank faced. "That's in two weeks." I have to write and deliver an entire speech, in front of my teachers, classmates and their families, in 14 days. Ever since I fell in love with writing, I've treated it delicately. It's a process, and it takes me a while.

"If you need any help writing the speech or want an extra set of eyes looking it over, I'd be happy to do so. Just let me know."

Right then, the bell went off and students scrambled to pack up their things and get the hell out of class as fast as they could- something especially accelerated on Friday afternoons.

"Thanks." I slowly pack up my folder and books into my backpack. The class is just about empty. I've noticed that I'm always the last one to leave the classroom. I push up on my desk to stand, and cringe at the burn ripping through my hamstrings…like it always did when I sat for a long time. I slowly make my way over out of the desk without tripping, and skillfully swing my backpack over onto my shoulders. The weight is immediate and I bite back a curse. I seriously cannot wait until summer.

In my haste to leave the classroom, I forget something crucial. I spin back on my heels and head to the bookshelf next to the whiteboard. Sitting in the same spot, mocking me, are my crutches. Two surgeries later, and instead of a walker or a stroller, I've got these. We have had quite a long relationship- I think I got them when I was eight or nine. I still remember the exact moment I walked into my physical therapy session and Amy told me I had a delivery. The red forearm crutches were packed neatly away in a white box. I remember slipping my arms through the cuffs, gripping the grey handles with my palms, and walking back and forth in my living room; thinking I looked so cool and I could finally compare myself to that main character in _Scarface. _Well, that affection only lasted so long. Actually, I think it only lasted for about twenty minutes. Then I realized how incredibly irritating they were.

The crutches play two roles. The first is that they are my walking aides. They allow me to walk long distances and provide me stability and endurance. They are what I lean on when I wait in long lines, or for the light to change so I can cross the street. They allow me to speed along the sidewalk and let me feel capable and independent for once. They are what allow me to walk with Katie and Catherine to the movie theatre all by myself. And the best part? The crutches are my strategy to skip lines at the amusement park. People can judge me all they want- if they had plastic cuffs attached to their arms at all times, if they would never know what it was like to walk freely and without shackles, they would be telling a different story.

The second role for my crutches is that they are the most irritating little things I have to deal with everyday of my life. They are what give me blisters on the sides of my hands and thumbs at the end of the day. They are what prevent me from using all my muscles when I walk (since I'm putting weight on both my crutches and my legs) so I guess I'll always be weak in a way. They are the pain in the ass that stop me from buying a damn bottle of root beer at the convenience store because I can't carry the bottle from the fridge to the front counter because my hands are tied. They destroy my lunch, because every time I put a sandwich inside a zip-lock, which then goes in a plastic back, they slam against the crutches and then eventually, when it's lunchtime, all I've got is mush. Who the hell wants to eat that?

As I make my way through the school hallway, I feel like an aggressive driver. I'm in survival mode, on a mission to make it from point A to point B without getting knocked over. Trust me, it happens way more often than one would think. People are too caught up in conversation to notice that I'm trying to get by. Or they crowd in little groups in the middle of the hallway instead of moving TO THE SIDE so I can pass. Or sometimes a guy and a girl will do that stupid run and hug thing, and then walk backwards. Know what happens when they walk backwards? I fall over. I would rather not fall over. It's embarrassing. So, I have to be aggressive and practically shove my way through the halls. I gave up saying excuse me once seventh grade hit and I realized I didn't care if people gave me dirty looks.

"Mr. Dexter!" I'm almost near my locker when I spot my favorite teacher at this school, my Literatures in English teacher. I know Mr. A offered to help me, but this guy is what I had in mind. He turns when he hears his name. As always, he's got a book and a few file folders under his right arm.

Mr. Dexter smiles and waits for me to catch up to him. His hazel eyes are warm and friendly, and he cut his hair down to a red buzz. "Hey! I heard you won for Student Speaker. That's awesome." Not only did Mr. Dexter fuel my literary horizons, not only did he teach me about literature's Anti-Hero, not only was he fond of my paper on _All Quiet on the Western Front…_he was the one who convinced me that it was worth it to become a writer. He just doesn't know it yet.

I smile, and then I feel shy like I always do when people compliment me. "Thanks. I was wondering if you could-eventually-read my speech? When I write it, I mean. Even though I have no idea how to write one of these things." I'm doing the automatic slouch down on my crutches when I feel pain on the bottom of my feet- something that always happen when I'm standing in one spot for too long. And yes, too long could mean just five minutes.

Mr. Dexter smiles behind his glasses. "Yeah, absolutely. I'd be happy to. Just shoot me an email when you've got something for me to look at." He playfully hits my shoulder with his book. "I've got to run- Friday staff meeting. Congrats again. Have a great weekend!" As quickly as I'd found him, Mr. Dexter faded among the crowd.

I turn to face my blue locker. The crutches erupt into symphony as they knock against the locker and prevent me from lifting my arms. I breathe a loud sigh even though there aren't many around to hear me, and harshly remove the crutches from my arm. They bang against the wall but remain unharmed- they're practically indestructible. I've dropped them down stairs, against concrete, in the street, and nothing. As hard as I've tried, I literally can't get rid of them.

For a few seconds I feel liberated. Luckily my locker opens easily today, but the same can't be said for taking off my backpack. The weight bears on me and the pain arrives. Of course it does.

I don't notice Katie head towards me in the hallway at a running start until she kisses me (enthusiastically, as always) on the cheek. "I _knew _you'd win! Congrats smarty pants."

"Thanks," I say, a little side-swept. "I didn't think I would win."

Katie rolls her eyes. She helps me with taking off my backpack by slowly taking one strap off my shoulder, and then making sure I'm stable on my feet before removing the other one. "Please." She lifts my red backpack into her hands and unzips it while at the same time, holds it in her grasp while I empty stuff out. A part of me watches her and wonders when we grew up. Sometimes I still think of us as the pair of kids drawing in her backyard. Now we're older, and we're maturing. Katie's hair got longer and she's tall. Her hair reaches past her shoulders and her teal green eyes sparkle. Most days, she's still naïve Katie. But the rest of the days, I just wonder when the hell we left our five-year-old selves behind.

"What are we doing?" Catherine's voice radiates from behind us. "I have to go run and pick up my brother from school." Catherine puts her arm playfully over Katie's shoulder.

I swing my red backpack onto my shoulder again. "I thought he takes the school bus home."

"Not today. Dentist appointment."

"Ella won the vote for Student Speaker!" Katie revealed, an excited smile on her face as she helps put the strap on my other shoulder and grabs the crutches. Her phone goes off, and as she goes to answer, she rolls her eyes. "Hi mother," she answers emphatically. "I know, I'm helping Ella with her stuff….it will take me ten minutes!...OK, I'm leaving right now, God." Katie hangs up the phone angrily. "I swear my mom needs to move to bloody China."

Catherine and I laugh. "That's nice."

"I have to run before she grounds me for something stupid again," Katie says. She blows us both kisses and heads for the other end of the hallway. "See you guys later. Ella, I'll call you."

"Okay. Bye!" I call after her. I turn to face Catherine and notice the look on her face. "What?"

"My parents decided to send me to Westover."

"…Oh. But that means we won't be going to high school together," I reiterate plainly.

"Yeah, that's exactly what it means. But the school's amazing and I got a great scholarship."

"I know." I don't say anything for a second and smile softly. "What am I going to do without my best friend?"

I met Catherine McMillan when I was eight years old. One of the best teachers I'd ever had sat Catherine next to me in class, and the rest was effortless. I'd realized quickly that Catherine and I were essentially the same person: wonderfully sarcastic, smart, witty…good-hearted. She's pretty much my other half, my sister, my partner in crime. She's the person I call when I'm pissed at my parents, pissed at myself, pissed at the world. She's the person I share really strange inside jokes with, she's one person I see being in my life forever. She's my person.

"We still live three blocks away from each other," Catherine answered in that way of hers. "I hate to break it to you, but since grade school we've all pretty much gone our separate ways."

"…Shut up," was my only answer. Catherine shakes her head and walks me to the entrance of the school, where she helps me down the obnoxious stairs and waits until my mom pulls up in the car, where she give me a hug and tells me she'll see me tomorrow, probably, most likely.

I walk slowly to my mom's Mercury Comet. She wears the same big smile she does when she sees me, and gets out of the car to help me with this damn backpack. "Hi baby," she greets, kissing my forehead.

"Hi," I answer softly, suddenly out of breath and worn. The strain from the bag has reached the joints in my knees. They are burning. I remove the crutches from my arm and throw them carelessly into the backseat, letting my mom take the bag off my

shoulders.

"God, what do you have in here?" she exclaims as she lugs the heavy bag onto the backseat as I climb into the front.

I don't answer since my answer is always the same. My bag is full of notebooks, books, and folders. Everything it takes to get straight A's is in my backpack. I watch my mom climb behind the wheel of her car and put on her seatbelt.

"How was your day?"

Another question I'm reluctant to answer. I'm trying to resist telling her about winning Student Speaker for reasons that only I know. I just want to see her face when I step up to the podium. Suddenly I can't look my mom in the eye, because if I do, she will know I'm keeping something from her. See, I can never, _ever_lie to my mother. She knows I'm lying before the lie leaves my lips. It's irritating and comforting at the same time. "Good." I shut my mouth before anything else escapes. I pretty much tell her everything, so it's almost unnatural not to.

Predictably, I can feel my mom's eyes burning into me and I try not to meet her gaze because it will fall apart. I'll start laughing and ruin it. "What?" she asks suspiciously, cautiously even.

"Nothing." I say quickly. I reach forward and turn on the radio, hoping the music will catch her attention like it always does.

"Hey! Don't touch my radio." My mom protests, playfully swatting my hand away. She changes the track and turns up the volume. "Listen, I'm going to have to take you to Aunt Haley's for a little bit. I ran into something at work."

"Seriously? Can't you just take me home? I'm exhausted. I got no sleep last night."

"No, you're not staying alone."

"Where's Dad?"

"He's at the Auto Shop."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas coughed up yet another bout of dirt and grime and decided the five hours he'd spent working in the shop had been enough. He was constantly training new mechanics and he realized quickly that there were few who could do the job correctly like he could. After he washed his face with cold water in the bathroom, Lucas retreated to his office in the back of the shop. When the blinds were pulled up, he could watch his employees and make sure they were doing what they were supposed to be doing. A song by Santana faded into a dull throb, and it gave Lucas the quiet he needed to go over numbers the shop brought in over the last month.

"Yo, Luke!"

Or not. Lucas sighed and ran his hand over his face. He could spot Skills Taylor from miles away. He wore the same smug-slightly arrogant- grin on his face, and walked the same walk wherever he went.

_-x-_

"_Luke!" Skills walked through the doorway of the Service and Repair Auto Shop. The place was empty except for the occasional run down car and a Santana tune in the background. Skills looked about for any sign of his friend, with Fergie, Junk, Mouth, and Nathan in his footsteps. "Yo, Luke!" The breezy July night aired out the stagnant shop._

_Fergie whistled as he saw the familiar equipment and smelled the same type of motor oil. The nostalgia almost knocked him over. "Man. It's been so long since I've been in here." He almost thought that if he blinked twice, he could see his fifteen-year-old self under the hood of a car. _

"_I know, me too," Mouth agreed. The place hadn't changed a bit. _

_Nathan said nothing, just took it all in. The place had Keith all over it. He still lived with regret knowing that the only time he stepped foot in this shop was to spite Lucas- who he'd barely known at the time. The last time he had been here, when Jamie had just turned six, it was too late. Keith was already gone. _

_The silence surrounding them was almost too daunting for them to handle, until they heard familiar footsteps emerging from the darkness. _

"_Hey guys," Lucas greeted, wearing a white tee shirt, jeans and old work boots. "Nice of you to finally show up."_

_ Skills eyed his old friend carefully. His stride was confident and his smile was smug. Something was up. "Yeah whatever. It's late, for all I knew you wanted to drag us in here and kill us all." _

_ "Nah I just thought to invite you guys over, have a drink." Lucas reached behind the desk in front and pulled out a bottle of Jameson and shot glasses. _

_ "For what?" Nathan asked carefully. He shared a glance with the guys. He wasn't sure if this was even allowed._

_ "What do you guys think of this place?" Lucas ignored Nate's question, instead he gestured to the empty shop. "You like it?" _

_ "How could we not?" Mouth countered, taking a seat across from Lucas. The rest did the same. _

_ "Good." Lucas poured each of his friends a glass and set the Jameson onto the counter. His smile betrayed him. "Because I bought it." _

_ The guys said nothing. Skills was the first to say what they were all thinking. "Man, get the fuck outta here! You bought this shop?" _

_ "Are you serious?" Nathan added. _

_ Lucas nodded. "I bought it. It's all mine. Am I crazy?" _

_ "Yeah!" Skills exclaimed. "How are you going to oversee it with the Ravens?" _

_ "They're not in season all year," Lucas argued. "And I can write from a basement if I wanted to. All the people still work here, which means I don't have to be here all the time to keep the place going, necessarily." _

_ Nathan shook his head. "I had no idea you wanted to run this place." _

_ "Me either," Lucas insisted. "I was kind of ambushed with it recently. And now, here I am. It can't be that insane, right? People's cars are always going to need fixing."_

_"I feel like I'm in high school again," Junk spoke, finishing off his shot of Jameson. "Hell, maybe I can work here, now that I'm officially laid off." _

_ "You want to?" Lucas offered. _

_ Junk raised his brows and didn't know what to say. "Whoa, man. I was just kidding. I mean, my boss is still a dick, but…I was just joking."_

_"I'm not." _

_ "Really? You'd do that?" He didn't say anything, but in that split second, Junk saw Keith offering him a summer job- just because he needed the money to help out his mom. _

_ "Come on, I've known you for how long? I don't think it'll be too glamorous, but it's a job right?" _

_ Junk shook his head, and he felt Keith watching in a way. "I guess I can't really refuse. Thanks, Luke."_

_ Skills laughed. "My River Rat brother: a successful businessman and an all star high school basketball coach who can write a best seller in his sleep." Skills poured everyone another shot of Jameson in true celebratory fashion. _

_ "It's not a bestseller yet," Lucas insisted, getting embarrassed. He just recently showed pages to people other than Peyton, and he was still nervous about it. _

"_Man, shut up. It will be."_

_ That was all the toast they needed. _

_-x-_

Skills appeared in the doorway of Lucas' office a second later. "What's good?"

"I'm not sure, you're the one visiting," Lucas said. He watched with an amused glance as Skills sat down breezily in the chair on the other side of the desk like he lived there.

"I couldn't find you at the River Court."

"Today's been busy. I've been standing for five straight hours."

Skills nodded. "You need to take it easy. How's your heart doing?"

Lucas laughed and scratched the back of his head. "It's fine."

Skills eyed him suspiciously and his glance traveled down to Luke's left hand. "Why aren't you wearing your wedding band?" he asked bluntly. His gaze was hard and almost threatening.

Lucas' eyes followed Skills' gaze. His left hand was in fact bare. Still, he shook his head and reached into the collar of his shirt. He pulled his gold wedding band into view- it remained on a silver chain that hugged his neck, just like his gold wedding band always hugged the perfect spot on his chest. "I wear it around my neck when I'm doing repairs, so it doesn't get ruined when my hands are covered in engine fluid and grease." Lucas paused and noticed Skills' empty stare. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"

After a second, Skills spoke. "I was just about to kick your ass if something was going down and you weren't saying anything. Because if something's going on…"

"Nothing's going on, Skills," Lucas interrupted. "Is there something else you wanted besides interrogating me?"

Skills leaned back in his chair and his cavalier attitude returned as quickly as it had gone. "Yes, as a matter of a fact there is." He gestured to Luke's desk. "You still got Jameson in your desk drawer?"

Lucas laughed. "Wow, you're pretty observant, aren't you?" Nevertheless, he reached into his bottom right desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jameson and two glasses. He unscrewed the cap and poured the drink for Skills to take. "What are we toasting to?"

Skills swirled the glass in his hands. "Remember that film sports coordinator job I told you about? The one that Jullian hooked me up with?"

"Yeah, you had the interview last month, right? You got more news?

Skills grinned ear to ear. "I got the job."

"What! Congrats, man. That's awesome!" He gave Skills a familiar handshake just like when they were kids. "So what does that mean now?"

"Well, it's a lot more money than what I make now, and I get benefits." Skills paused. "The only thing is that they want me out in Los Angeles."

"You're leaving?"

Skills nodded. "I start work September 1st."

"Shit," Lucas said. "I guess we'll be separated for real this time, huh?"

"I guess so. But we'll still visit all the time. Lauren's got her mom here, and this is Jeremy's home. It's going to be hard on him to leave- but this job is once in a lifetime for me."

Just three short months after Lauren and Skills exchanged wedding vows in a chapel on the beach in Mexico, Lauren announced she was pregnant. Then they found out they were having a son- whom they named Jeremy Reid Taylor. He grew to be as golden-hearted and generous as his mother, while being as rambunctious and goofy as his father.

"I know it is. I just can't believe you're moving all the way across the country. Ella's going to be heartbroken," Lucas couldn't help but say. Until Jeremy, Ella had always been Skills' Achilles heel.

"Don't pull that shit on me," Skills joked. "I _will _cry."

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

When my mom and I got to my Aunt Haley's house, the foyer and living room were empty. "In the kitchen!" she calls. I place my crutches by the door next to the coat rack- where I always put them. I easily cruise through the house, my mother by my side. "Hey guys!" she greets with a smile, turning from the stove. Her hair is longer and an auburn color now, I suppose hazelnut brown. Beautiful. I watch as she waltzes over to give me a hug. "Hey kiddo," she says, kissing my cheek.

"Hey," I reply, returning the hug. Aunt Haley always gives the best hugs. They were always warm, loving, and safe. She gives the same hug and kiss to my mother.

"Can I get you something to drink? Water, juice, soda?"

"No, I'm fine," I insist. I take a seat at one of the stools by the kitchen counter. Even though the seats are a little high, I push up using the strength in my arms and I'm seated in no time, my shoes dangling off the floor.

I hear my mom's phone beep, which means she got another text message. The thing wouldn't shut up the entire ride over here. "It's work," she confirms. "I have to run."

"What! You just got here!" Aunt Haley insists, a pleading look in her eyes.

"I know, I know. But what're you going to do?" My mom gives me a quick kiss and hug. "Bye baby," she whispers. "I'll pick you up later, okay?"

"Okay, bye," I say. I watch my mom hug Aunt Haley one more time, and I hear the sound of her heels against the hardwood fade away. Eventually she crosses the threshold and she's on the other side of the front door.

"So, Ella," Aunt Haley begins, and I shift in my seat nervously. Is she going to ask me a difficult question, or give me the third degree? She seats a plate of heaping food on the counter in front of me, and leans on her elbows. "What's new?"

I was about to answer until I heard two familiar voices. Those two are always hanging out when they're not in school- they're like the comedy twins- a real match made in heaven. I always say that they remind me of Turk and JD from _Scrubs._

"Hey Ma!" Jamie calls as he saunters into the kitchen. Even though Jamie's like 19 now, he still acts like an eight year old most of the time. At least, around me he does. He's a little short for his age, and he's got the same dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He looks so much like my Dad it's crazy. But he also looks _so much _like Aunt Haley. Especially when he smiles or has an idea. That kid has a new idea like every week. If he's not inspired to write a play, he's researching how to patent a new invention. He's insanely sporadic, and while I love him like a big brother, it drives me nuts.

Today Jamie's wearing a red tee shirt and jeans. His eyes are hidden by my Uncle Nathan's old ray bans. I don't think he's noticed that they're missing yet- he's been super busy with Clay with getting their new sports agency- I think they're calling it Fortitude-off the ground. A few months ago, Uncle Nathan finally retired from the NBA with an impressive career as a Charlotte Bobcat. He broke I don't know how many records, but he's a pretty big deal. Kids all over the country idolize him. It's really sweet, actually.

Aunt Haley threw him a huge, expensive party when he announced his retirement. Everyone showed up, and there was music and food and paparazzi. Those guys have no mercy whatsoever. They literally _do not _give up. I saw so many of them hiding behind bushes. My Uncle Nathan wouldn't let me out of his sight. I'm pretty sure they know (and by they, I mean the media) that his niece has a disability, and he _hates it. _I hate it too.

Besides that, it was a blast. But it was also a pretty emotional get together. When Uncle Nathan gave his speech at the end of the night, Aunt Haley cried, Aunt Brooke cried, and my mom cried. Hell, it was the first time in my life that I'd seen my Uncle Nathan cry. While it was touching, it broke my heart in a way. Seeing sweet guys cry always breaks my heart.

"Hey Ma!" Andre Fields breaks me from my daydream. He wraps his arms sweetly around Aunt Haley and gives her a tight hug. He's pretty much my Aunt's adoptive son. Every time I'm over (which is a lot) Andre's here.

"Hi," Aunt Haley greets, humoring Andre as she pats his arm. "What're you doing here?" she asks playfully. "It was nice and quiet." Now that's he's a young adult, Andre is known for being really loud and has a tendency to bounce off the walls in hyperactivity- at least when he's around us.

"I heard there was food."

Jamie comes around the counter with a full plate of food and ruffles my hair. "What's up, fruitcake?" he says with a laugh.

"You know, I really resent that you call me that, Rafiki."

Jamie's jaw drops to the floor and his eyes widen, causing me to break out in laughter. "Hey! Shut up!" Ever since Jamie, his girlfriend Clara, and I watched _The Lion King _randomly one time, we noticed the striking resemblance Jamie bared to the monkey Rafiki. The nickname kind of stuck.

Andre laughed. "Rafiki. I'm going to call you that all the time now."

"Ella, I hate you," Jamie pouted, digging into his food.

"Yeah? I hate you too," I chide, a priceless smile on my face.

"Mom! Olivia woke up from her nap." my cousin Mattie just walked into the kitchen. I can't believe he's nine already. The kid just had a few growth spurts, and he looks exactly like his dad. Especially when Aunt Haley shows me pictures, the similarities are alarming. Mattie's got Uncle Nathan's brunette hair, eyes, and smile. They're practically clones.

Little Miss Olivia, on the other hand, looks just like Haley- more so than Jamie does. She's got her eyes, and she's probably the most adorable kid I've ever seen. She just turned two last month. I remember when she was born- Aunt Haley didn't make it to the hospital and gave birth to her in the car. Uncle Nathan delivered her with the help of a police officer and a very nice paramedic on the other end of the telephone line.

My dad is her Godfather, and Quinn is her Godmother. Her baptism was just like it was yesterday. Where is the time going?

"Oh! Thanks sweetie," Aunt Haley replies. She quickly takes off her apron and on her way out of the kitchen, she stroke's Mattie's chin. "Say hello to your cousin!"

Mattie rolls his eyes and drags his way over to me. He's carrying my old Game Boy in his left hand and I can hear the Pokémon theme music coming from the speakers. "Hi," he mutters, giving me a lopsided hug.

"Hey," I say, and I laugh to myself. Mattie's still in that shy, awkward stage-I feel like I'm still in that shy awkward stage. Can't blame the kid. I pat him twice on the back before letting him free to spare him more embarrassment. He makes his way a recliner seat in the living room, eyes glued to the game the whole time.

"So Ella, middle school's almost over, huh?" Jamie begins. "I don't remember middle school at all. It's such a blur."

"You got all the girls, bro," Andre supplied, finishing off his first plate already.

I roll my eyes. "Of course you did."

Jamie laughs. "Get ready though. Middle school's pointless, but High School sucks."

"Yeah it does suck," Andre agrees, sipping orange juice. "College is so much better."

"Good to know that's over four years away." I voice is dripping with sarcasm. "How awkward is it going to be when your mom becomes my teacher?"

"She probably won't be," Jamie replies honestly. "She wasn't mine."

"She was mine," Andre said. "One of the best teachers I've ever had, actually."

"Can you repeat that?" Aunt Haley returned to the room, this time with Olivia in her arms. She was giggling and carrying a little stuffed bunny she never lived without.

Andre let out a breath and smirked. "You were one of the best teachers I've ever had, Ma."

Aunt Haley smiles. "Oh Andre, you're so sweet." She turns to Olivia and peppers her face in kisses. "Right baby?"

"Yah!" Olivia squealed in her little voice, before throwing her bunny across the room.

I laugh at Aunt Haley's expression, before she sets Olivia down on her little legs. Once she sees me, her smile widens and she runs to hug my legs. "Ella!" she says. My name's easy enough to pronounce: it's exactly as it sounds.

"Hi cutie pie!" I tell Olivia sweetly. I pat her soft brunette hair and watch as her little arms wrap around my legs. She wants me to hold her, but I'm afraid to pick her up. Not to mention I'm sitting on a stool and I can fall backwards. It sounds far-fetched, but don't put it past me. I'm disaster prone.

Luckily Jamie's there and he picks up his little sister and plops her on my lap. "I don't want to drop her," I say awkwardly, holding onto her tightly. Olivia can't tell the difference and is giving me kisses anyway.

"You got it," Jamie says calmly. His gaze travels to my legs and I bet he's also noticing how they're tensing up, again. "Just relax."

I take a deep breath and very slowly my legs relax and my toes uncurl. I try to distract myself with the beautiful little girl sitting on my lap, and so far it's working.

Jamie clears his throat and cleans up his plate and empty glass. "Thanks for the food, Mom. Can I borrow your car?"

"What happened to yours?"

"I told you, Uncle Luke is fixing my breaks and wipers. He's nearly finished."

"Where are you going?"

"Just out for a drive," Jamie says vaguely, pouting. I can see right through him. "We'll be back in two hours or so."

Aunt Haley stares at Jamie carefully before digging into the back pocket of her jeans. She fishes out her car keys and hands it to him. "No speeding," she says. "Seriously."

"I won't." Jamie kisses his mom on the cheek and motions for Andre to follow him out the door.

"Tell Clara we say hello!" Aunt Haley calls after her son and her adoptive son. I laugh a little at how Aunt Haley seems to know everything.

"We will!" Jamie shouts back. A few more frenzied footsteps, and the comedy twins are gone. The only people left in the kitchen are Aunt Haley, Olivia, Matthew, and myself. Although Matthew is so tied up in his game that it might as well be us three girls.

After finishing off my plate of food, I wipe my mouth with a napkin and take a sip of my water. The silence is daunting and almost choking me. My plan was to blurt out my news as soon as my mom left, but then Andre and Jamie came in and wouldn't shut the hell up. Typical.

"Hey, Aunt Haley," I begin. I can feel my knee shaking like it does when I'm nervous. Except I have no clue why I'm nervous. "How good are you at keeping a secret?"

Aunt Haley's eyes brighten and she smiles widely. I guess this means she's happy that I'm sharing something important with her. Contrary to popular belief, we don't forget all our role models when we become self-absorbed, narcissistic teenagers. "Are you kidding? I'm the best. Why, what's going on? You better tell me!" she jokes, leaning on the counter like an excited child.

"You can't say anything." I turn to Matthew once more and he hasn't turned around once. He could care less. "I won the vote for Student Speaker. I have to give a speech at Graduation."

Aunt Haley gasps and she squeals happily. "That's amazing! I'm so proud of you!" She pauses. "Wait, why can't I tell anyone?"

"Well, I guess you can tell Uncle Nathan. But my mom _cannot_ find out. I want to surprise her."

"She's going to cry," Aunt Haley tells me, a smile playing on her face.

"I know."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A week later, Lucas walked through his gym, hearing how his shoes hit the floor in a rhythm. Several State Championship banners hung from the ceiling in decoration, some of them consecutive. Nathan's jersey, Jamie's jersey, and Quentin Field's jersey still hung on the wall. More often than not Lucas walked through the gym and was reminded of his days as a Raven. Whitey always said he loved an empty gym- that it was peaceful, kind of like a church. Lucas' response as a sixteen-year-old was incorrect. There had been a hell of praying done in this gym. Even though at the moment, the place was empty, Lucas could still hear prayers floating through the air- for just one more basket, just one more win- just for a miracle.

Lucas could've sworn his gym was empty and he could finally find the time to play on his own. It wasn't until he was near half court that he saw a familiar shadow standing under the basket- probably a future Duke Blue Devil. Basketball was this boy's art, and he was painting a masterpiece. "Ryan," Lucas called, striding over to the young boy. "It's late. Go home."

Ryan Hayes turned, his blue Ravens tee dripping in his own sweat. His black hair, which contrasted with his pale skin, nearly covered his teal eyes, and he'd gotten so tall recently that Lucas didn't recognize him most of the time. He pulled his black ear buds from his ears and let the basketball hang from his hips. "It's not that late." He bounced the ball once or twice on the hardwood floors, not being able to live without that magical sound.

Lucas scoffed. "It's six o clock on a school night. You're a State Champ. No more Thursday night practice until next season."

Ryan smiled and his pearly white teeth sparkled. "Right. Practice is over by your rules. But for me, practice is everyday. Besides. This is my way of celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"I had my History panel earlier today."

Lucas raised his brows and eyed Ryan carefully. When Lucas first met Ryan two years ago, the kid had an attitude. He thought he deserved to walk on rose petals, and was above everything and anyone. With his dedication to basketball and blossoming social life, he had zero desire to do well in school. Until he realized that in order to be on the starting line up of the Ravens, he had to pass all his classes- that meant earning a higher grade than a C. "I thought that was tomorrow."

"Ms. Cramer agreed to let me do it today."

"Well," Lucas pressed eagerly, "How did it go?" He didn't feel the slightest bit nervous, for over the past two years his faith in Ryan had only grown. Plus, the boy's proud smile diminished any feelings of anxiousness.

"I passed. They gave me an A."

The high school proudly employed five major papers and panels that must be completed by rising sophomores, juniors, and seniors that wish to graduate: Foreign Language, American History, Science, Literature, and Math. In sophomore year, students had to complete a foreign language paper on a social topic and present it to a panel of faculty. In junior year, perhaps the hardest, students had to write a historical thesis on a topic of their choice and defend their argument in front of a panel. On top of that, they also had to conduct a self-designed experiment in any of the offered science courses and present at a symposium. In senior year, students completed the Literature and Math requirements. If the students successfully passed each paper and panel, they effectively confirmed their readiness for graduation. After a minor setback, Ryan Hayes had officially passed junior year as of 4:30pm that afternoon- and in a year's time, after completing his Literary Criticism and Literature Panel, Ryan would be walking across the stage to receive his diploma. The best part was, everyone had doubted him. Well, except one person.

"You see! Congratulations. I told you everything would work out." He reached to shake Ryan's hand but instead, the boy gave him a hug.

For someone who used to have a great sense of personal space, Ryan's hug was unusually warm and tender. In that one second, behind his tough and arrogant exterior, the boy was vulnerable. "Thanks for all your help, Coach," he said. When all the other teachers had given up, Lucas was the one that set a pile of books on Ryan's desk and helped him develop a thesis surrounding Prohibition. Lucas was the one that answered Ryan's constant emails and looked over all of his edits. Lucas was the one that stayed after hours to make sure Ryan passed. Not just for the sake of his team- it was well beyond that, much greater than that.

"That was all you," Lucas insisted, patting Ryan on the shoulder. "Just remember to give yourself more credit."

Ryan nodded, and even though he didn't say much, Lucas knew he got through to him. He somehow always did. He gestured to the basketball hoop behind him. "Game to 21?"

"Good idea, you need to work on your fade away," Lucas said, slouching down to his knees to catch Ryan's pass.

"What! There's nothing wrong with my fade away." Ryan approached Lucas and set his feet up in a stance to block Lucas from the basket.

"Yeah, that's what you think."

Lucas began to dribble and try and sneak past Ryan on the left, but the boy was too quick and practically picked Lucas' pocket. He dribbled a skill move through his legs, as fluid as river water. When Lucas moved to block Ryan on the left block, Ryan faked him and did a fade away, jumping back on his left leg and watching as the ball sailed through the air and into the net. "Oh! What!" Ryan laughed and watched as Lucas went to retrieve the ball. "That was beautiful."

"Yeah yeah, that's the oldest trick in the book," Lucas insisted with a smile. "And you know what? I wrote that book."

Ryan raised his brows. "Actually, I'm pretty sure your little brother wrote that book."

Lucas said nothing, instead began to walk quickly towards Ryan with the intent to hit him over the head.

Ryan laughed and broke into a run, running circles underneath the basketball hoop. "Shit!" Ryan swore, tripping over his shoelace. He covered his head even though he knew Lucas would never actually hit him, just playfully shove him to the floor.

"You're going to be devastated when I beat you," Lucas insisted, faking Ryan out on the right (his weak side) and going for a lay up.

The two played until it was 17-14 in favor of Lucas, whose feet had begun to ache. He straightened out and took a few deep breaths, at which point his chest started throbbing. He stole a glance at his wristwatch. They'd only been playing for twenty-five minutes. Dr. Chu advised him to max out at no more than 15. Only during this one second respite did Lucas realize how worn out he was. He grabbed his water bottle and began to drain it eagerly.

"You alright?" Ryan asked. "Maybe we should stop."

"Why, afraid you'll lose?" Lucas asked, having to catch his breath.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "No, you have a heart condition."

Lucas attempted to make a joke out of it, but Ryan wasn't having it this time. Ever since he had found out about Lucas' HCM, he was the one reminding Lucas to take breaks during practice, instead of it being the other way around. So, Lucas nodded and threw Ryan the ball. "You win."

Ryan smirked and motioned behind Lucas' shoulder. "Hey, Peyton!"

Lucas turned around, and sure enough Peyton was sitting on the bleachers on the other side of the court. She had walked in right in the middle of the guys laughing over some joke. They were so into the game, they didn't notice her walk in- even though she was wearing her favorite pair of heels. She had watched their entire interaction, and her heart felt full. She knew since that one night when Lucas had Ryan over for dinner, that nothing could break their bond. When Lucas came home from work and would tell Peyton about Ryan's astounding progress, Peyton would just smile. What she could tell, before everyone else, was that Lucas was changing this boy's life. He just didn't know it.

Lucas playfully hit Ryan in the shin with his foot. "Quit checking out my wife!"

"Hi Ryan," Peyton returned. She rested her chin in her palm and watched Lucas walk quickly over to her. Ryan, on the other hand, had respectfully turned his back away from the adults, planted his feet on the free throw line, and began making baskets to his own music soundtrack.

"Hey," Lucas greeted Peyton softly, sitting down next to her.

Peyton placed a soft kiss on Luke's lips. "Are you okay? You're sweating."

"I was playing a basketball game," Lucas answered plainly.

Peyton rolled her eyes. "You weren't at the shop or at the River Court. I figured this was the only place left to find you."

"I know, this week's just been crazy. You figure since it's almost the end of the year, teachers will let off with work. I feel like it's the exact opposite. I had to help Ryan. He had his History panel today, a day early. But he passed with an A."

"That's great!"

"He hugged me," Lucas whispered, somehow fearing Ryan would hear even though music was blasting in his ears. "He's never done that before."

"He loves you," Peyton told Lucas softly. Her green eyes were a beautiful ember shade as she gently rested her palm on Lucas' cheek.

"How are you doing?" Lucas asked instead, although he couldn't ignore his feelings of pride. He placed a strand of Peyton's ear like he was known to do. "You look better. Are you still feeling like it's the flu?" He sweetly put his palm on Peyton's thigh, running his hand along it. That touch alone gave her butterflies.

Peyton looked up at Lucas and smiled. Suddenly her hands began to shake and her heart rate accelerated. Luke was staring at her with those beautiful blue eyes, and oh this news was going to thrill him beyond comprehension. "I don't think it's the flu. "

It took Lucas a few moments to actually understand what she was _really saying. _A smile broke out on his lips. "…Oh."

After Ella's first surgery and their attempts to get pregnant were unsuccessful, Lucas and Peyton resigned to the fact that another baby wasn't meant to be back then.

In a way it worked out better, because Ella's second surgery arrived quickly, just after she turned seven. Dr. Farrell performed a surgical Achilles tendon lengthening so that Ella could walk with her feet flat on the floor, (which meant no more toe-walking) and at the same time he loosened and lengthened Ella's hamstring muscles to relieve her spasticity- or, as she liked to call them, "hyper active muscles".

After that, Lucas and Peyton never again questioned Dr. Farrell's sense of practicality and decisiveness. He wanted to literally do one surgery after the other to radically improve Ella's quality of life while she was still young and resilient to major surgery. Dr. Farrell stuck to his word one month after Ella's 10th birthday. He performed her third surgery, what he liked to call a Removal of Hardware. The metal plates and screws he had inserted into her femur and hip when she was five had to be removed because she outgrew them. They were literally too small, and got dislodged as she grew, which was pretty painful. While the procedure wasn't as nearly as daunting as the first one (none of the surgeries that followed proved to be), it still meant another surgery.

Lucas and Peyton certainly didn't have the time to care for another baby, and it was almost like the universe was well aware of that.

"Is 'oh' your favorite word?" Peyton teased. She relented and grabbed Luke's hand from where it rested on her thigh. "Do you think I should take a test?"

"I mean, that's usually the first step," Lucas joked. "The pharmacy is still open."

Peyton gazed at him and tried not to laugh. He really was going to drive her all the way to the pharmacy on what she thought was a hunch. Who was she kidding? It wasn't a hunch. It was real. She could feel it in her heart. So, with Luke's hand still entwined in hers, she adjusted her purse on her shoulder and stood up. "Let's go."

Lucas turned back to his star basketball player. "Ryan!" he shouted loud enough for him to hear through the music. "Go home!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Luke!" Peyton called from the door of their bedroom. "We're going to be late!" Her fingers are dangling with the chain of her peridot necklace and she can't get it hooked around her neck.

"Have you seen my tie?" Luke asked hurriedly, his shiny loafers hitting the hardwood floors. He just finished pulling his black blazer over his deep blue dress shirt. All that was left to complete his outfit was that damn black tie.

"It's right here," Peyton replied. She brought the tie around the collar of Lucas' shirt and began to fix it for him, gently bringing the fabric and fixing it to his chest. She could smell his cologne and it made her shiver. Suddenly, with him so close and his eyes so blue, goose bumps rose on Peyton's arms and it was like she received the blessed news all over again. "I think we should tell Ella today," Peyton whispered with a smile.

Lucas chuckled and ran his thumb along Peyton's cheek. "That's kind of a big day, no? Finishing off middle school, starting a new chapter in her life, and then finding out she's going to be a big sister?"

Peyton laughed and brought her arms around Luke's waist. He was even closer and she could feel his body heat- she loved and hated it at the same time. "She's going to be so happy," Peyton said, finally feeling light again. She'd do anything to see that smile on Ella's face. She was going to get what she always wished for from the very start. In a way, they all were.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

It's beautiful out. The sky is burning blue and there's just a little breeze. The foliage is starting to turn green through the tree branches, a sign that summer is finally here. It's a beautiful day. It's Graduation day.

My speech is typed in a Times New Roman 12 point font and is folded into a perfect square. It spent the night under my pillow. I decided it deserved such a space of honor after what I went through to write it. It didn't take me long to realize just how much had been riding on this speech- in fact I think it sunk in as soon as I picked up my favorite red pen. The kids who I thought ignored me most of the time chose me to represent them. They chose me to speak for them. Like I would know what the hell to say.

It was all looking pretty helpless until Katie convinced me to hang out with her last Thursday night. We had the next day off, so naturally I slept at Katie's place. Her, Catherine and I were just hanging out in her backyard when it started pouring. It was the kind of pouring where you get soaked in seconds and the grass is getting pounded to nothing under your feet. While I insisted over and over to run back inside, Katie and Catherine started singing. They sounded terrible, but they sang anyway, in the pouring rain. I did nothing but watch them, and I knew it would be one of those moments I would never forget. So when Katie and Catherine were stuck in their own romantic ballads, I ran off as fast as I could without falling. I sloppily made my way downstairs, and once I crossed the threshold I dug for any kind of paper in Katie's messy bedroom. Since her light was busted, I had to write the speech in red ink pen with a damp hand by flashlight. A few edits later, and here we are.

The auditorium is getting more packed by the second. I look around and see all my classmates, who I love and hate, envy and admire, adore and cannot stand. They're either wearing suits, skirts or nice dresses, and I realize this is the first time we're all dressed up.

We're lined up against the wall like we practiced in rehearsal, just by height. Of course we have problems staying still, though. We're having scattered conversations full of elation and excitement. We've heard such grand things about high school and we're right at its doorstep. Wait a sec. That's a great line. I'm going to add that in my speech. Just as I'm about to get it from the pocket of my graduation gown, I see my mother make her way through the crowd.

"Hey," she says. She's wearing a dress that probably isn't new but looks like it is, and she looks beautiful. I can tell her eyes are watery. The ceremony hasn't even started yet and she's getting emotional. Oh Jesus. I hope she doesn't sit in the front row so I don't have to meet her gaze when I'm delivering this speech. Then she'll definitely cry, and then I'll probably cry. I watch as she tenderly hooks a white rose on the left side of my deep blue gown and zips up the zipper all the way up. She runs a finger over the gold strip on my gown that signifies honor roll. She places her warm hand on my cheek and smiles as she sees my long, wavy blonde hair and the green eyes I got from her. "You look so beautiful," she says, and her voice almost is full of lament. She doesn't want me growing up so quickly. I don't want to grow up so quickly.

"Thanks," I say. My gaze falls to my red crutches and I want to throw them in a fire. "I hope I don't fall when I have to walk to get my diploma. That will be mortifying."

"You're not going to fall. Don't think like that."

"I'll try not to, but you know it's a huge possibility."

"Don't worry. Just focus, and you'll be fine." My mom looks me over with soft eyes and I can tell she's getting emotional all over again. "When did you get so grown up?"

I stare at her blankly. "Please don't cry."

"Who's crying?" Catherine asked, who abandoned her place in line and came to stand to my right. I think the fact that she's really leaving Katie and I for high school finally hit her and she's a bit clingy. But I don't mind. Today's going to suck. It's like the universe is splitting up the Three Musketeers.

Katie, the third, is on my left. She's linked her arm through mine and I'm hoping I never have to let go. "Awe, don't cry! I'll cry."

"My babies are graduating!"

"It's just middle school, Mom."

"So? It's still a big deal." She ignores the look on my face by hugging and kissing each of us. But then when she hugs me, she holds me for a little longer than everyone else. She kisses my forehead and tells me she loves me so that no one else can hear.

"Love you too," I tell her quietly. Her hand is entwined with mine and I hold it tightly. I remember when my hand barely fit in her palm.

"Your cousin Jamie is going to scream so loud when they call your name," my mom laughs.

"Oh God." I can just imagine what's going to go down when they all realize that I'm giving the speech.

In that second, out of the corner of my eye I see my father slip quietly passed the crowd in a deep blue dress shirt, black blazer and slacks. My mom sends me one final wink and tells me she'll see me inside, and then goes by my dad so they could walk in together. I almost didn't notice that they were holding hands.

"That's going to be our Coach," Sheff nudges his buddy Kyle. They watch eagerly as my father disappears towards the auditorium. To them, he's a legend. He was the guy who got the Ravens their first championship. He's the guy that has the Ravens on an unstoppable streak. But to me, he's just Dad. "Hey, Ella…"

"No," I tell them. "Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no."

"Oh, come on!" Sheff begs. "Can you at least talk to him for us?"

"No! What difference do you think I could possibly make on my dad's roster?"

"I don't know, but you're his kid! Drop a hint here and there," Kyle pleads.

Katie rolls her eyes in disgust. "First of all, you'd have to _try out _for Varsity first. And second of all, you're not good enough to make the team. So how about no?"

Katie pulls me gently and leads me down the hallway. Our shoes squeak on the black and white linoleum and we arrive to the doors we're meant to go through when the ceremony begins. The room has nearly filled up, and the stage is set with seats. But all my eyes can land on is the single podium with a black microphone front and centre.

"Whoa. That's a lot of people." I feel my heart pounding in my chest and my stomach starts twisting again. I'm so glad I had a light breakfast.

"You're going to be fine. Can I see your speech?"

My eyes flicker as I rummage through my pockets. "Oh, fuck!" My hand is planted over my mouth. "I forgot it on my kitchen table."

Katie's eyes widen. "Are you serious? Oh my God. Can you improvise?"

"No!"

"What're we going to do?"

I start to laugh. "Nothing. I'm screwing with you." I need to laugh or else I'm going to throw up.

"Fuck you!" Katie swears. "You almost gave me a bloody heart attack."

I reach out and pull out my perfectly folded square. I practiced in front of my mirror before I went to bed last night, and weirdly I'm praying the words didn't change or screw over into something unrecognizable. "It's right here."

"Can I see it?"

"No way!"

"Please! I'm really curious."

"You'll just have to wait and actually listen when I deliver it."

Katie and I watch with wide eyes at the auditorium, full of our teachers and parents. This was a big crowd for just a middle school graduation. I wonder how many of those people know I'm speaking. Oh, crap- more people to impress.

"So how crazy is this, huh? Pre-school, elementary school, _and _middle school graduation together," I tell Katie, draping my arm over her shoulder.

"_And_ high school," Katie adds with a smile. "You and I have been through a lot, haven't we?"

Not many thirteen-year-olds can say they survived three major surgeries together. Katie came with her parents and surprised me in New York when I was in recovery from my most recent surgery. Apparently the house we were been staying in was the same one from when I was five, I just have next to no recollection of it. But the place is nice. I was feeling so awful that day, and Katie made me feel so much better. She brought me chocolate from London.

When Katie messed up the growth plate in her hand playing a random soccer game and had to get surgery, I was the one visiting her.

When Katie's dog Teddy died from throat cancer, I let Katie cry in my arms behind the teacher's desk.

Whenever people would stare at my stroller and my braces when Katie pushed me down the sidewalk, she would stare the onlookers down and say, with quite a bit of attitude for an eight-year-old, "_What're you looking at?"_

"I love you, you know."

Katie smiles and wraps me in a hug. "I love you too, _sis._"

I kiss Katie's cheek just as she'd always done for me. "You're probably the only sister I'll ever have."

"You're probably the only sister _I'll _ever have," Katie returns. "Sounds pretty perfect to me."

"Ladies!" Katie and I turn to see Mr. Dexter, looking dashing in a charcoal blazer and white button down. His hair is combed to the side and his eyes have shrunk behind his glasses. "You're not in line! Hurry up and get back there!" We've never seen him so stern, and for a second we're stunned. But his sternness melts away and he smiles. "Just kidding. You're fine. We've still got a few minutes." He waltzes up next to us and whistles at the amount of people in the audience. "Ella, how're you feeling? You ready?"

I take a deep breath. "Ask me that in five minutes."

Mr. Dexter chuckles. "So that's where you'll be speaking," he points to the podium. A light from above is shining directly on it, I sware. "We'll have your speech already up there and waiting for you." Mr. Dexter gestures to a chair far on the left, next to the stairs. "What do you think if we seat you there? That way you'll be close to the stairs and you won't have to be knocking people over to get by them. It's poorly designed, I know."

"Sounds good." My eyes travel quickly over the stairs-with a railing, thank God- and the distance to the podium. Usually I could make the distance no problem without the crutches-I only really use them outside anyway- but my concern is with all the speaker cables blocking my path. I could trip on one of them and it'll be textbook mortification. And since I really don't want to use the crutches to get to the podium, I turn to Mr. Dexter and ask him another favor. "Do you think you can lend me a hand to get to the podium?"

"Of course. You read my mind. Last thing I'm going to need is your speech."

With steady hands, I reach into the pocket of my gown for my square. I hand it to him somewhat reluctantly.

"Ella. Don't worry. It's really good." Mr. Dexter smiles before stealing a glance at his silver wristwatch. "Looks like it's show-time." He gestured for Katie and I to follow him back to where everyone was assembling in line. I run back into my spot and Katie does also at the other end of the line.

"Alright everyone!" Mr. Dexter yells over the crowd and we all quiet down. "You all look smashing. In just a few minutes the ceremony will begin. Watch where to walk. Smile for God sakes. And don't forget about us."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Peyton settled in a seat between Lucas and Haley in the middle of the auditorium, a little off center as per Ella's instructions. The class covered the stage, a sea of deep cobalt blue. Peyton had a great view of Ella laughing at something one of her classmates said. She still couldn't digest that her baby girl was wearing a cap and gown- and this wasn't even the big league yet.

Haley nudged Nathan's arm with her elbow and he cleared his throat. He directed his question to Peyton with a sly grin, "Have you looked at the program yet?"

Peyton picked up the silver program carefully. She watched her in-laws with a suspicious gaze before flipping right to page four of the program. On pages two and three was the list of students in this year's graduating class, and on page four was the order of the program. First on the list were the opening remarks by the Principal. And then Peyton's eyes fell on the second name, in black lettering,

_**Student Speaker, Class of 2026**_

_Ella Grace Scott_

Peyton ran her fingers along Ella's name, her eyes watering up. The ceremony hadn't started yet and she was getting emotional. She looked at Lucas first but didn't say a word.

"I had no idea," Lucas insisted, taking a look at the program himself.

Nathan and Haley, on the other hand, had huge grins on their faces. "We knew."

"She had to tell somebody," Haley added. "She wanted to surprise you."

"Surprise!" Nathan said, nudging Peyton's shoulder.

"Surprise what?" Jamie asked, leaning over his mother's shoulder.

"Look at the program."

Jamie leafed through the program with Clara on his left. He looked up to his Aunt and Uncle with a look of disbelief on his face. "Ella's speaking? What! How come nobody knew about this?" Jamie quickly spread the news down the row like a game of telephone, except louder.

The loudest was Brooke. "No way! How did Haley find out before me? What's going on here?" And yet her playful disappointment couldn't mask her pride. Brooke raised her arms in exaggerated fashion to get Ella's attention. It didn't take long for Ella to notice Brooke's from her seat on stage, and she began to laugh.

In the flurry of people she didn't recognize, Ella saw her family taking up a whole row. But perhaps most importantly, she saw her mother and her tears glimmering from afar. Ella bravely met her mother's gaze with a private smile and simply shrugged.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

Literally everyone and their mother showed up to see me graduate. Not counting my parents, I saw Uncle Derek and Aunt Lisa, Grandma Karen and Grandpa Larry, Uncle Nathan, Aunt Haley, Matthew, Jamie, Clara (I thought she was kidding when she told me _I'll see you there_), and Aunt Brooke and Natalie. There were so many of them, they took up an entire row for crying out loud.

Everything goes by so fast it's almost a blur. Pretty soon I heard my name through the microphone, and Mr. Dexter is already at the foot of the stage stairs, gallantly holding his hand out for me to take. I take his hand and take sure strides down the stairway, walking carefully across the cables strewn across the floor while pretending not to notice hundreds of people staring at me.

My speech is sitting on the podium as promised, unfolded and open to only my eyes. I can see the creases in the paper. The letters are crisp, black and neat. I wish I left it handwritten. I'm deciding to stare at this little spot on the wall, a little spot that's above everyone's heads and just below the stage light so I won't go blind. I take a deep breath and take care that it's not amplified. All I see are eyes, burning into me and watching my every move. They are the sea I have to face without a lifejacket.

_Do not be afraid, and have the courage to chase your every dream. _

Aunt Brooke gave me her blessing to borrow and alter that line from the speech that won her vote for Student Council President. Of course, that line was originally spoken by JFK. But I can bet nobody noticed because they were too busy clapping and cheering.

I swam without a lifejacket and the sea embraced me.

For now.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_PLEASE REVIEW!_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	2. Chapter 1

_Didn't hear from as many people as I would've liked to about the prologue! I'd love to hear from you as I'm writing later chapters of this story as we speak. If I hear your voice I may make minor alterations to the story! If I hear from readers it'll be easier for me to work out the plot-lines (it's harder than it seems!)_

_Chapter One _

I found out about my cerebral palsy by accident. It's truly hard to believe that it didn't play out like a movie: my parents never planned a time to sit down and tell me, and they didn't come into my room and sit down next to me on my bed to break the news. I didn't utter a single child-like line covered in an innocent, unexpected wisdom, and I definitely didn't come to a sense of acceptance and give my mother and father a hug.

Instead, it happened like this:

_-x-_

"_The cerebral palsy is what actually prevents her from doing the exercise. She's too spastic," Shawn spoke in low tones to her fellow co-worker and physical therapist, holding a chart in her hand. _

"_Is that what I have?" _

_Shawn and her co-worker Tristan turned their attention across the room covered in exercise equipment of all shapes, colors, and sizes. The room was in a state of haywire. Yet in the midst, Ella Scott stood tall, her green eyes shining and contemplative. One would think the air would grow heavy in silence due to the universe flipping over, but instead the tension was thin, as if nothing had changed at all._

_"Yep, that's what you have." _

_ Ella watched, momentarily frozen, as Shawn crossed the room and sat down on the raised blue exercise mat. Out of habit, Ella followed. She watched Shawn scribble and underline on a patient's chart. "Is it gonna get worse?" _

_ "No, it won't get worse," Shawn replied routinely, barely looking away from the chart. _

_ Ella's voice rose in slight hope. "Is it gonna go away?" _

_ At this, Shawn did face her patient. Her eyes softened and hardened simultaneously. Without waiting another moment, she replied, "No, it won't go away." _

_-x-_

I don't know what drove me to ask Shawn to confirm what, on some level, I already felt. The staring never got past me when I walked down the sidewalk. Of course, I acted as though it hit a barrier because I was trained and raised to do that, but in actuality my demeanor was permeable. Although, behind closed doors I felt like my walking was normal. I believed it, not until I went out in the street, but instead when I looked in the mirror. My eyes would catch the abnormal sway from side to side, the way my left leg turned in while my right stayed correctly aligned. I slowly realized that none of my friends had to go to physical therapy twice a week, none of my friends had to be pulled out of class to learn how to tie their shoes. They already knew how to tie their shoes.

I knew deep down that my life was a bit different than that of the others. I just never brought it up; because my parents acted like that difference never existed. I enjoyed the bubble that innocence brought to me and I never wanted to escape it. So I asked no questions. Until that day when I was eight.

Whenever Shawn signed me out of a physical therapy session, I noticed that she always took her red pen and underlined the words, _cerebral palsy (CP)- spastic diplegia_, as opposed to the words underneath it like, _cerebral palsy (CP)-quadriplegia, _or _mental retardation, mild, moderate, severe. _I never connected the dots until then: Shawn was reinforcing my diagnosis, and the red underline was my label forever.

I sat down at the dinner table that night and told my mom my new discovery. I swear to God things got quiet and the universe turned upside down for a second. She looked up at me and said, "Who told you that?"

"Shawn. Is it true? What does it mean? Is it common?"

All I remember from that conversation was my mom replying, "No, it's not common." Everything else was a blur because I couldn't stop thinking about how the way the world-doctors, physical therapists, occupational therapists, pediatric neurologists, certain red-haired surgeons-perceived me, and how it was so vastly different than how I perceived myself. I was forever going to be seen as somebody else, even though my parents worked very hard to prevent that, and instead established positivity and normalcy in my life. Here's the thing: I didn't know what the hell was normal anymore.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_September 28__th__, 2026_

I can feel a cramp rising in my hand. It's been curved around this pencil for the past forty-five minutes. If I can manage to finish this third page, I will have finished my English homework on time. All I had to sacrifice was the remains of my social life and the single view line from behind my desk. You may ask, "what's my one motivation?" Well…all the certificate and report cards filled with the letter _A _are taped to the wall behind my head.

I hear a familiar set of footsteps and suddenly Katie runs through the door and plops down on my bed. "Hey girly," she greets, watching me with an amused glance. My back is turned on her but even then I can tell what her face looks like. "What're you doing?"

"Just finishing up this homework," I answer, blowing a piece of hair away from my face. My hand is scribbling like mad, under extra pressure now that Katie is here. She'll soon find out that my outgoing personality is a perfectly rehearsed sham and I actually have no life whatsoever. She probably knows that, but for some reason this child still hangs out with me.

"On Friday? You're so good." I can hear Katie casually playing around with the stuffed Minnie Mouse resting on my pillows, before getting bored and pulling up a chair next to me. "Want to watch _The Parent Trap _and eat tons of ice cream with me?"

I place a period next to my last sentence, place the sheet in a folder, and turn to Katie with a laugh. "Again, really?"

"Yeah! Oh come on, we can use it as our inspiration."

I swivel around in mychair and cross my ankles, facing Katie for the first time. Today, she's wearing capris and a light blue t-shirt. Blue was always her favorite color. "Inspiration for what?"

Katie rolls her eyes and chews on the silver chain of her necklace. A habit I've never failed to notice, but never have pointed out. "Um, _hello. _I'm Annie and you're Hallie, remember? We need to get your parents back together!"

I laugh, but I'm trying to ignore the twist in my stomach. "My parents are together."

"I know…. But, you know what I mean."

For a second I twirl my fingers on my lap so I don't have to look Katie in the eye. She's lucky she came to visit when this house was quiet. Somehow, I always get a visitor when the house is quiet and none when it's not. "Yeah." I take a deep breath and as a distraction, reach for my sneakers. Katie grabs the other and starts to help me put it on my right foot. "Well, I'm down as long as we watch it at your house."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

His steps always felt heavy now. Mentally and sometimes physically, it was a burden for him to walk up to the front door of his house and turn the key in the lock. He couldn't see straight without seeing traces of the kid everywhere. He almost thought he was going insane.

Thankfully the hallway was quiet. He could hear Ella's voice in a soft murmur, which got louder once he ascended the staircase. He sighed and tried to breathe, not because it was normal, but because he had to survive another day. He intended to head to his bedroom for a shower, but Lucas stopped short. He kept telling himself he didn't mean to, that it was an act of the cosmic universes, but there he stood.

He had finished painting all the walls a light green. Things still remained in boxes but he was going to unpack them. He really was going to. But it all escaped without a fighting chance. Lucas took an overwhelming breath in, but the air was thick and stale and still smelled of the fresh paint.

"Luke?"

Lucas' eyes snapped open and he turned around. Peyton stood in the doorway, her eyes soft and vulnerable. He could still see that from miles away. "Hey," he said, his voice distant. He cleared his throat just to soak up the dragging seconds. He quickly turned away from the green paint and new toys and shuffled out of the room, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

"I didn't even hear you come in," Peyton said softly. She watched over her husband carefully. She had suggested he shaved his scruff a few days ago, but he still hadn't done it yet. "Are you okay?" she asked gently, somewhat afraid of his answer.

Lucas ran a tired hand over his face. Then his palms fell to his side, and he got that floating feeling. Where he would walk into a room and everything around him would dissipate. The colors, lights, sounds would fade into a haze, and he would move in complete and total disconnection to all of it. "Do I look okay?"

Peyton's eyes flickered, and his tone hit her like a bad pinch. She figured she had to overlook that since it only had been three weeks. In that moment, Peyton was choosing whether to fight back or resign, when Katie and Ella walked into the hallway. Peyton saw immediately how Ella turned her gaze to the floor and sped up her walking pace. That girl walked so fast it was deceiving.

"Hi," Katie greeted warmly, despite the off-handed glare she got from her best friend.

"Hey," Peyton replied, turning away from Lucas. "Where are you guys going?"

"My house," Katie answered. "Movie."

"Oh. Have fun," Peyton offered. "Ella," she called. Ella stopped short and turned around, visibly agitated. "You don't say hi to me?"

"Hi Mom," Ella said, planting her hand on the stairwell railing. She barely met Luke's gaze. "See you later." She climbed down the stairs with remarkable deft, and Peyton was left alone. Lucas slipped off without her noticing, but she was willing to bet that he was going to hide in his office, in the corner of the library she had built for him.

-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-w

Lucas turned his lamplight down to a dim glow, just how he liked it. He could see the shadows of his book collection (which he transferred to this library in just three days) watching over him- and he knew he had to do right by them. He had to do right by someone. He sat in his desk chair and listened to how his wheels scratched against the wood floor, echoing loudly in the empty space. He stared at his blank desktop, watching the blinking cursor and hating it more and more each time-while secretly hoping that tonight was the night he'd find inspiration again. He had wanted his fingertips to dance along the keyboard again, wanted to feel great joy when he immersed himself in his art. Yet it seemed now all he got was heavy disappointment.

Lucas sighed and reached into his bottom desk drawer. The bottle of Jameson was right where he left it the night before, along with the glass that accompanied it. Lucas unscrewed the bottle like a routine and poured it in the glass. He took the liquid quickly and gritted his teeth as it burned down his throat, and his eyes closed. He hoped only for a second, that when he woke up, he could go back in time and be somewhere else.

_-x-_

_ October 7__th__, 2025_

_ "You wanted to see me, Nancy?" Lucas was barely at work for ten minutes before he was called in-he still found it amusing that he had to "Go to the Principal's office" years later. He looked around the room and saw that he wasn't alone. Sitting at the long conference table was Gabriel Olmos, Assistant Principal; Jack Levitt, an 11__th__ Grade advisor; and Sue Chen, a guidance counselor._

_ Nancy Curtis took off her eyeglasses from behind her desk. Being an educator had at least let her age pretty well. "Lucas," Nancy gestured wearily. "Please sit." _

_ Lucas took a seat at the long conference table next to Sue, suddenly feeling like he was under observation. "Something going on?" _

_Nancy laughed in spite of herself. She'd spent two decades in the game and she still managed to be surprised. "I'm sure you've heard about the little celebration the school inadvertently hosted this weekend?" _

_Lucas furrowed his brows and looked around the table at fellow staff. Jack shook his head, Sue exhaled, Olmos remained stoic. "No…" he answered slowly. _

"_You'll know by the end of first period," Jack assured him. He quieted down when he felt Curtis' hard stare. _

"_It seems an upperclassman thought it a good idea to throw a party on school grounds the night of Midnight Madness," Nancy revealed sternly. "One of the janitors found all the alcohol, and the locks had been tampered with." _

"_Have you found who's responsible?" Lucas asked steadily, getting a bad feeling in his gut. _

_ "Of course we have. It was one of your boys, Lucas." _

_ Lucas stared at Nancy for a moment, expression blank. "You're going to tell me you think it was Ryan, right?" Lucas looked around the table, and nobody refuted. He shrugged. "Where's your evidence?" _

_ Without a second lost, Nancy reached into her top desk drawer and slid a card across the table. "The janitor found that by the pool," Nancy stated bluntly. _

_ Lucas glanced at it only once. Ryan's school ID. "Doesn't mean it was his idea. Maybe he dropped it when he went swimming." Lucas saw Olmos roll his eyes but chose to ignore that entirely. _

_ "He doesn't swim," Nancy answered with an attitude. "He plays basketball." _

_ There was a cheery knock on the door that sliced the tension filling the room in half. Ryan poked his head through the door and smiled brightly with his perfect, pearly teeth. "Hey fam!" he greeted, sauntering over to a chair and taking the seat next to Lucas and across from Jack Levitt. "What's good, Coach? What'd I miss?" _

_ "Mr. Hayes, you were supposed to come here today with both your parents," Gabriel Olmos noted tiredly. _

_ "They're not here yet," Ryan answered cheerily. "Olmos. You guys. You've known me for how long now? Just call me Ryan. My father is Mr. Hayes, so please don't ever call me that." _

_ "Don't call me Olmos," Gabriel bit back. _

_ A frantic knock on the door was next. A woman with shoulder-length black hair and a coach purse made her way through the door. Her grey coat was buttoned all the way up and she wore black stiletto's, which made a rhythm when she walked. "So sorry I'm late," she apologized with a slight lilt. "Oh Jesus, you're all here. Hi Coach," Sandra Hayes greeted the room in a frazzled, out-of-breath manner, before sitting sloppily in the red wheeled chair. "So, Ryan, my boy who I love," Sandra began, suddenly taking command at the flick of a switch. "What did you do now?" _

_ Ryan tried not to laugh. "Why do you think I did something?" _

_ Nancy took over. "Mrs. Hayes, are you aware that there was a party on school grounds last Friday? It seems like there was break-in by the pool area. A member of the janitorial staff walked in on several students blasting music and drinking in the pool with strobe lights taken from the Theater Department. According to him, the students scattered before he could identify them, but he found this." Nancy slid the ID over to Sandra across the table. "Ryan's school ID, damp in pool water." _

_ Sandra looked at Ryan for a moment before seeing his signature smirk from a mile away. "Oh my God, Ryan!" Sandra groaned tiredly. "You broke into the school? Are you kidding me! Am I really hearing this when I'm supposed to be at work, providing for you?" _

_ "Technically, we were already in school for Midnight Madness. And we thought everyone had left already. And actually, I didn't supply the alcohol. Some moron brought that shit-excuse me, stuff-in. That part was supposed to be for after." _

_ "That doesn't matter! You know that. Oh, come on." _

_ "Ryan, you presented cause for an unruly situation," Nancy explained. "You offered fellow students the opportunity to break the rules, while at the same time, breaking them yourself. Whether or not __**you**__ supplied the alcohol is irrelevant at this point." _

_ "You stole the master key to the school, Mr. Hayes," Olmos added. His salt and pepper beard tickled underneath his charcoal lips. "You really think we wouldn't find out about this?" _

_ "Chill out, man. I'm not even denying that it was me. It __**was**__ me." Ryan laughed. "We were celebrating! It's the start of a new undefeated season, culminating in a State Champ trophy." Ryan sent Lucas a glance from across the table and smirked. "All thanks to me." _

_ "Ryan, this is unacceptable," Nancy said sternly, her voice filling the room. Ryan's smirk disappeared. "I have no choice but to put you on a one month-in school suspension. All extracurricular activities are to come to a halt, including basketball." _

_ Up until this point Lucas was just watching in disbelief. Once Nancy mentioned the terms, "alcohol" and "break-in" he knew that this time was worse than all the others. Now, the wave hit and he actually had to speak. He saw how Ryan's demeanor changed immediately. "Hold on a second…" Lucas tried, sitting up in his chair and speaking steadily. _

_ "You can't do that," Ryan protested, his haughtiness now completely faded. "We probably won't make playoffs." _

"_Oh, now you're serious?" Sandra started. "When she mentions basketball, right?" Sandra shook her head in disbelief, waving a hand through her long, wavy hair. _

_Nancy held up her hand to diminish any other noise. "That's school policy, Ryan. Any detriment to your academics jeopardizes your eligibility to play on the team-" _

_Ryan bravely interrupted, sitting up straight in the black swivel chair. "Look, suspend me! I can still keep up with all the work. I don't care, just…you need to let me still play. I've done so much for this team." _

"_We all know about your remarkable efforts, Ryan," Ms. Chen spoke gently. _

"_You acted irresponsibly, Mr. Hayes," Olmos spoke again, his tone unforgiving. "And this is your consequence. That's me putting it kindly." _

"_I told you not to call me that!" Ryan snapped irritably. He saw Lucas across the table and calmed, gazing at his coach desperately. _

"_Alright," Lucas began, his tone even. "I'm sure it wasn't just Ryan. Maybe we can arrange another solution." _

"_Absolutely not," Nancy answered, and the argument ceased. "You know I never send students home on suspension. Then they've won. They get a vacation. Ryan created a situation with thriving underage alcohol consumption. He was trespassing. He tainted his own name, and the name of this school. And most importantly, he could've potentially endangered the lives of his fellow classmates!" Nancy shook her head dramatically and picked up her black pen. "You're all lucky I chose not to bring this to the attention of the school board-and, by the way, I could lose my job for that- because they'd unanimously declare expulsion." Nancy took a breath and stared at Ryan with an unwavering power. "Ryan," she began, and Ryan met her gaze. And although it hurt Nancy to see how Ryan's cheeks had reddened and his eyes got teary, she continued anyway. "This is my last 'save you' card, do you understand me? Next time this happens, I can't promise that you'll be allowed to walk back in here." _

"_There won't be a next time," Lucas spoke firmly, his blue eyes turning cold. _

"_This isn't all about the reputation of your team," Olmos bit in snidely. _

_ Nancy turned the other direction, ignoring Olmos on purpose. "Coach Scott, I know fully well of your bond with Ryan. But this is out of your hands." _

_ "With all due respect, it's not," Lucas replied, standing up from his chair and dusting his blue wind pants. "Not yet." Lucas turned to Olmos with a hard glare, full of all the disgust he intended to put forth. "And Olmos? You don't know what the hell you're talking about." Lucas pushed his chair into the table and strode out of the room, saying nothing else, knowing that Ryan had been watching him that entire time. _

_ Ryan ran after Lucas down the hallway, knowing that his mother was probably going to get into a screaming match with his father over the phone. "Coach, wait up!" _

_ Lucas had been walking quickly, trying to breathe out some of his anger. He felt his fingers clenching next to his waist. Man, he fucking hated Olmos. He always had, that smug bastard. Lucas breathed and spun around on his feet to face Ryan. _

_ "You can fix this, right? We can fix it." _

_ Lucas scoffed. "No! Of course we can't. What do you think? That they were going to applaud you? Do you know how badly you could've messed up? You already really messed up!" _

_ "It was just a party."  
_

_ "Ryan!" Lucas said, keeping his voice dangerously low. "You could've gotten arrested. You want that on your transcript? I'll tell you what would happen. No college would take you. Say goodbye to a scholarship. This suspension is bad enough," Lucas hung his head and took a moment. _

_ Ryan swallowed. His blue eyes faded, and away from all the scrutiny, he was truly sincere. He fought to get the words past his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't thinking about all that. I was just promising everyone that we would get another trophy-that I was going to get you one." _

_ "That promise isn't all on you. What about your fellow Ravens? You're a team. How am I going to tell them about your one month absence?" _

_ Ryan rolled his eyes, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder. "They wouldn't care. They'd be happy to get more ball." _

_ "That's nonsense Ryan, and you know it. You are integral to the team's success. And you're a star. You have such talent. You know it, and I know it."_

_ After a moment of contemplation, Ryan flipped his thin black hair away from his eyes, and his signature smirk returned. "Olmos is such a dick." _

_ "Yeah, I know." _

_ Ryan and Lucas began walking down the hallway stride-in-stride. "So, what the fuck do we do now?" _

_-x-_

Lucas blinked open his eyes tiredly. He was staring at his ceiling, his books remained on the shelves silently staring at him. His neck grew stiff and his muscles throbbed, so Lucas poured himself another glass of Jameson in the hopes that it would dull his pain.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

In all the time I've spent at the Nowell house, it's stayed exactly the same. They still have built in bookshelves filled to the brim, still own that antique lilac couch, still have a small chess table set up for a impromptu match. The house smelt faintly of cooking oil and bread.

"Hi Julie," I greet Julie Nowell politely. She's standing by the stove and checking up on dinner. She hadn't changed for as long as I'd known her- she still wore her straight brown hair in the same way, still wore silver, thin framed glasses. Her taste in clothes remained the same, too: light, pastel colored shirts for tops, and slim pants with clogs. My Aunt Brooke jokes around that it "hurts her to see Julie's wardrobe". Julie's very pretty. She just hides it, or doesn't know it. But Mitch still takes her out to dinner and a movie, so I bet a million dollars he still thinks she's as beautiful and amazing as the day he married her.

"Hi Ella," Julie greets, turning away from the stove. "How's it going?"

"It's going well," I answer. Out of the corner of my eye I see Katie go into the bathroom, and I'm praying she wont be long.

Here's the thing about Julie: First off, she's brilliant. More importantly, she considers me a daughter since she's watched me grow up and all. And yes, in a way she's been like a mother to me, and I love her very much and respect her in my own way.

But she's fucking crazy.

I never thought there was a better way to describe her. She's had Asher and Katie on timers since she was my age. If they weren't done playing a card game in the five minutes she'd given them, she'd take them inside. If Katie and I were having a conflict, instead of letting the kids handle it like my mom would, Julie would get involved and wouldn't let it go like a dog with a bone. She's neurotic, sometimes insensitive, and nosey as hell.

But, like my mom always says, she means well. Sometimes. So now I'm standing here, waiting for Julie to give me the third degree. It's pretty much routine by now. _How's school? What classes are you taking? Are you sure that's a good selection? You don't seem like a math person. _Kindly shut the hell up.

I can see Julie hesitate a little bit before she asks me her question. That's never good. "So, how's your dad doing?" Julie continues to stir her simmering pot on the stove, but she meets my gaze eventually.

Oh. So we're talking about that today. Involuntarily, I feel my chest tighten and my heart begins to beat a little faster. One thing I've noticed about myself: sometimes I'm a sink with an open drain without even trying. My mother is way better than me at knowing what to say, and when to say it. "He's…. doing okay." I'm hoping that Julie will read my subtext, answer her own questions. It shouldn't be too hard. She's my next-door neighbor for crying out loud.

Julie nodded, biting her lip, her face washed over in solemn sincerity. "It's just so heartbreaking. I mean, I'm still in shock. I can't imagine how he feels."

I take a breath. "Yeah…" I'm twiddling my thumbs, literally. I hear the sink from the bathroom turn off, and Katie walks back into the kitchen, oblivious. She passes her mother without so much as a hello and opens the refrigerator. Katie does that a lot at my house. Even though I was raised that going into anyone's fridge is a cardinal sin, my mom doesn't care that Katie does it. She actually loves that Katie feels so comfortable with us.

"OK," Katie announces, slamming her freezer door dramatically. "Who the hell ate all my _dulce de leche _ice cream?" Katie rolls her eyes and yells downstairs, "Asher!"

"Oh, Katie stop yelling," Julie tries, in the same disapproving tone she always wears.

"Asher!" Katie yells again, disregarding her mom completely. "Asher Mitchell Nowell!" It seemed like Asher was in space, as usual. "You ate all my ice cream, you little…" Katie huffs a frustrated breath of air. "Mom, Ella and I are walking to the store. We'll be in back in like, ten minutes." Katie grabs her jacket from the table and her house keys from the counter. So I guess we're going to the store.

"Katie, I don't think that's a very good idea," Julie begins, in that same passive aggressive manner. Here we go. Classic Julie.

"Why not? We'll be right back."

"No, you'll get distracted, and dinner's almost ready."

Katie looks at me and I'm trying not to laugh, so I look at my cell phone as a fake distraction.

"Distracted with what? It's like five blocks. And it's Friday. What's the problem?"

Julie sucks in a breath of fresh air and shakes her head. "You know, I really don't appreciate your tone. I know you, you're going to be late for dinner, and Ella walks slow…"

That's when I look up from my phone. Thanks, I guess? But here's Julie being a bitch again, yet we love her anyway. So I swallow it and don't say anything.

Katie looks at me but my face is stoic. "Wow, Mom…" she begins, but falters. "You know what? In the whole five minutes we've been having this pointless argument, Ella and I would've made it to the store and back. Come on, Ella." Katie stalks over and picks up my crutches from where I laid them to rest against the wall.

I'm still trying not to laugh. I wave goodbye to Julie and make my way through the front door. The air is breezy and the night is covered in twilight lights, the sky purple and blue, and back to purple again.

"Ugh, my mom is bloody mental!" Katie shouts, her voice getting carried by the breeze. Her shoulder length hair follows her stride as we make our way down the block. The pronunciation of her high cheekbones is the first thing I notice. "You know she sees a therapist, right?"

"No, I didn't know that." That explains _a lot. _

I'm too caught up with looking in front of me to notice that I planted the tip of my crutch on a leaf on the ground, and before I can prevent it, I automatically put weight on the crutch and slip, crashing hard against the concrete. I hit my knees and grimace at the flashes of pain as my knee scratches against the ground, and soon my cheek is pressed against the stone. My arms are tangled in the plastic arm cuff, so I wait a second before moving. I hear Katie's gasp from a mile away and I want to crawl into a hole somewhere and disappear.

"Shit! Are you okay?" she asks, rushing to help me up. "I didn't even see you fall." She gently removes the crutches from my arm, and I reluctantly put my weight on her. Katie's pretty skinny-in fact she's so skinny I call her my string bean sometimes- I'm afraid I'll knock her down. But she's holding out her hands for me to take, so I'll take them anyway. She pulls me up with surprising strength, and soon I'm on two feet again- my crutches are attached to my arms again. It's in this moment where I realize, and I probably will have many more moments like these- that there will be very few instances where I will be free of the crutches at all, ever.

It's when I'm standing up that I realize my thumbs are bleeding. I must've cut them on the edge of the crutch handle when I went down. The blood leaks out of my skin in drops. I bring my thumb to my lips and suck at my skin until the blood disappears.

"You're fine, right?" Katie asks me, waiting until I'm steady before continuing our walk as if nothing happened, just as I prefer. "You're a pro by now."

"I guess I am."

Katie and I walk the rest of the distance to the store in comfortable silence. The pattern of our feet hitting the concrete soothes me. It isn't until I turn to Katie casually that I know she's doing some big thinking. "I wish I had the same relationship with my mom that you have with yours."

What is it about solitary walks in the nighttime that have people confessing things?

I stop walking for two reasons. The first is for the traffic light. The second is because I don't know what to say. And then I feel like an idiot because I've never noticed it. At least, I haven't until Katie just spelled it out for me. Never have I ever seen Julie and Katie hugging. Not one touch or term of endearment. She's done it for Asher though. "You do…" I look at my best friend, but it's so dark out that I can't see her face. So even though I couldn't physically see how much it hurt her to prove me wrong- I could tell, and I could hear the temporary sadness in her usually chipper voice.

"No, I don't."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Peyton approached the library slowly. Her feet ached from a long day of work as they hit the wood floor in long strides. She remembered for a split second the way her and Lucas would sit cuddled up on the couch surrounded by candlelight. He'd have her legs draped gently over his lap and would rub her feet for her, and sometimes it would feel so good she'd fall asleep. She tried to close her eyes to envision that scene, but instead Peyton found herself in the hallway, only able to go forward.

She wrapped her hand around the cold, golden door handle. As expected, it was locked. "Lucas?" Peyton called through the door, her voice softer than she intended. No answer. "I made dinner," she said again, although her instinct told her Lucas wasn't listening. She waited a minute or two, and when the door in front of her didn't open, when she didn't hear the footsteps that used to make her heart race, she sighed and walked back to where she came from. The dining room table sat draped in a fancy table cloth and romantic candles, mocking her.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I walked into the kitchen and smelled something amazing. "Mom?" I call through the house. Julie was kind enough to feed me, so I won't be eating any of my mom's food tonight. It'll just have to be dessert. I drop my crutches off next to the wall, where I can forget they exist until the next time I have to leave the house. I make sure strides forward to the refrigerator, and in the stainless steel doors I see my face staring at me. I take a few steps forward, then backward again. I see the way my torso sways from side to side, the way my left leg twists in and out again. I guess I can't hide, can I? I wrench open the freezer door, and the reflection of myself shatters to pieces. I stand for about two minutes looking for my ice cream, and in those passing seconds my feet burn in pain.

"In the living room," my mom calls back to me. I walk steadily over to her, ignoring the pain when my feet hit the floor just enough to make it to her, where she was curled up on the couch in front of the television.

"There's my ice cream!"

My mom pulls out an extra spoon and hands it over to me, where I sit across from her on the couch and we dig into the pint of mint chocolate chip together. Katie and I had a fair share of ice cream an hour or two ago, but I've forgotten all about that.

"I thought you'd be sleeping over at Katie's."

I swallow a spoonful of ice cream and let it slide down my throat. "Oh, God no."

My mom starts to laugh, and her laugh is contagious as always. "Why?"

"Julie's crazy."

"Hey…." My mom warns, but she catches the look on my face and can't keep going. She chuckles instead. "What'd she do now?"

"She smothers Katie. Let her breathe for God sakes! She was freaking out because Katie and I wanted to go to the store. Katie actually talks back now. That's my girl!" I take a look around and realize that we're alone…yet I notice the pots on the stove, the folded tablecloth and the melted candles. "Did you and Dad have dinner, or something?" I ask with a coy smile. "Get it!"

My mom looks at me, and even though she wants to laugh, she doesn't. "I don't think your dad feeling up to dinner right now, baby." She opens her arms and I effortlessly fall into them like I have so many other times. Soon my head is resting on her lap, and she's running her hand through my hair, and above my shoulders that are always tense because of the way I walk.

_Why, is he hiding again? _"I know. I'm kidding….kind of." I look up and my mom's making a funny face at me and I return it. After a few seconds of silence as I pretend to watch the movie, I say what I need to say before the silence swallows me up. "I feel bad. Is Dad gonna be okay?" I don't know why I'm asking this. A part of me doesn't want to know. But the bigger part of me does. I just want things to find their way back to normal.

My mom waits a few seconds before answering and I know she's trying to think of what to say. Sometimes I wish she didn't protect me all the time. "He's gonna be okay," she decides, and her voice is soft. She's running her palm along my cheek and I'm going to fall asleep soon. Those old tricks still work. "It might just take a little while."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas slipped on a jacket and tried to ease his way through the hallway. The time of night provided the type of silence he was used to now, the type of silence he found he preferred over the loud chaos. He thought the first floor of the house was empty until he heard the television in the living room. He sighed and quickened his step, but it was no use.

"Where you going?"

Peyton's soft, gentle voice broke Lucas out of his trance. All he saw was the front door and its subsequent exit, until he saw her: surrounded by darkness, sitting on the couch with their daughter, who had fallen asleep. She looked so innocent and unassuming that it hurt him a little bit. "I have to go to the shop," was Lucas' reply. His voice was so stale and dry he didn't even recognize it as it floated into the air. "Get some more work in. This guy needs his car in two days; he's moving." He saw Peyton looking at him with concern in her eyes, and he looked away at the power of her stare. His fingers ached to turn the doorknob and just escape from himself and who he'd become.

"Okay," was all Peyton said. Lucas could tell she wanted to say more, but she just didn't feel like it. And he was so beyond grateful for that, in this millisecond of time.

Lucas averted his gaze and slipped out the front door without another word.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

My eyes opened at the noise of a door slam. I was same exact position: my head rested on my mother's lap as my legs lay stiffly against the couch cushions, tangled against each other. I made an effort to straighten them out, but that would take too long. So instead, I rubbed my eyes to rid the sleep and saw my mother looking at me softly. "How long was I out?" I asked, unable to recognize the scratchiness in my voice.

"Almost an hour," my mom replied, gently moving strands of curls away from my face. She kissed my forehead twice, before entwining our fingers. "What happened to your hands?" Her voice is full of concern and she gently runs her hands along mine. The bleeding stopped shortly after I fell. Katie insisted on buying corny band-aids at the pharmacy and planting them on my "wounds."

I knew it wouldn't take long for Mom to notice. "I fell."

"Oh baby, you have to be careful. You hurt yourself."

I huff a breath of air and move my hands from hers, even though I refuse to move from her lap yet. "They're just cuts, relax," I say. "Katie freaked out enough for the both of us."

"Did you fall in the street?" Mom asks, fear escaping her voice. It took forever for my mother to even agree to let me go anywhere by myself. She insisted she "trusted me, just not other people." But I finally got through to her. When Julie ran into me downtown and I told her I was going to the nail salon, she smiled and told me what a big deal it was that I was on my own. That didn't make me feel better. It actually made me feel like an enormous loser.

"_No. _I was nowhere near speeding vehicles. I fell on the sidewalk because my crutch slipped. Katie told me something, and it broke my heart."

"Why? What did she say?" Mom asked, alarmed. Her eyebrows arched and her eyes turned a deep shade of green- like they always did when she was about to receive big news.

"She said, 'Ella, I wish I had the same relationship with my mom that you have with yours.' I wanted to hug her."

"Awe," my Mom begins, her voice full of lament. "My sweetie…I've seen Julie be loving," she tries, her voice light. My mother: always trying to see the good in everyone. Apparently she was the exact opposite when she was my age.

I give my mother a stare and she laughs. "In what universe? I've known Katie forever, and I've _never_ walked into her living room and seen her laying down with her mother like this." I don't say anything for a few seconds because I don't want to ruin it. Mom's holding my hand and I start to play with the shiny silver bangles around her wrist. I remember doing the same thing when I was younger. In that second, I'm reminded, _again, _how lucky I am to have her. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too," she says back, her voice soft.

Our peaceful moment ended with a knock on the door. "Who is that?"

It was then that I heard a familiar voice. "P. Sawyer! Don't make me use my key!"

"Uh oh," Mom tells me, starting to laugh.

I smile wide and quickly drop my legs from the couch to the floor. I stand with surprising speed and walk through the foyer to get to the front door, to wrench it open. "Hi Aunt Brooke," I greet in the same chipper tone I always use with her before she says there's something wrong with me.

The years had been kind to her. Brooke Davis-Baker was ageless. She still had those wise, warm brown eyes; those same brown strands of hair; the smooth angelic skin. She was still impeccably dressed, with a purse and shoes to match. Her heels were so high off the ground it was a wonder she walked in them without falling. But one thing had always been true about my Aunt Brooke: no one could knock her down, even if they tried.

"Hi Cookie," she greets warmly, giving me a big hug. She smells like the newest Calvin Klein. "Home this early on a Friday night? What's going on here?" she asks playfully, kissing my cheek.

"Where's Natalie?"

"With Jullian and the twins," Aunt Brooke replies easily. She follows my lead through the house to the living room, where Mom hasn't moved from the couch.

"I see you've been busy," Aunt Brooke tells my mom in her usual sarcastic manner. Their rapport flows easily and it's nice to sit back and witness such a treasured friendship.

"Hi B. Davis," my mom greets with a smile. She gestures to a glass of wine that she picked up from the floor by her feet. It'd been there the whole time and I didn't notice.

"Thanks for saving it for me," Aunt Brooke quips. She takes a seat next to my mother on her right, and I sit on Aunt Brooke's left. She pulls me to lean against her like she always has.

"You just saw her a few days ago," Mom tells Aunt Brooke, a childish lilt in her voice.

"So what?" Aunt Brooke asks, kinking her brow. "You jealous, or something?"

"No."

"Yeah right." Aunt Brooke rolls her eyes in a playful manner and I pick up the TV remote so I don't start laughing in spite of myself. "Where's Luke?" she asks Mom quietly, even though I hear every word.

"At the shop." Mom answers offhandedly, nonchalantly. At least, she tries to be.

"This late? What does it do, run 24 hours now? Are people getting into car accidents left and right?" Bless Aunt Broke and her snippy remarks.

Mom laughs quietly. "I guess."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aunt Brooke pat my mother's leg with her hand. It's for comfort and reassurance. But I pretend not to notice, because it's just easier that way.

"_Moonstruck_ is on!" I announce gleefully, sitting up on the couch pillows. "It just started." I look at the two ladies next to me on the couch with big, begging green eyes.

"Turn it up!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas was nearly blinded by the light. It was all he saw when he stepped through the door of his auto shop, and he covered his face with the back of his hand. He smelled dust and motor oil, yet he reveled in it. He stood in complete silence, and he cherished it.

A wrecked Volkswagen stood before him. Lucas unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. He pulled out a silver chain from his pocket, and pulled his golden wedding band off his finger. He easily hooked the band onto the silver chain, like he had so many other times, and rested the chain on his neck.

Lucas poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it in one gulp, before exhaling. This Volkswagen project needed to be finished in two weeks, not two days. Lucas convinced himself he wasn't lying. He was simply getting a head start. Either that, or he just needed to escape from the outside for a little while, and embrace his solitude. This need was only getting worse.

- x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_So clearly this chapter is just laying down some more foundation. What do you think is going on with Lucas? _


	3. Chapter 2

___Just wanted to clear up some confusion for you guys. The prologue of this story takes place in **June, **where Ella is graduating from middle school. Approximately **three months** have elapsed between the prologue and chapter one, where it is the end of **September** and Ella has now begun her freshman year at Tree Hill High School. I will put time stamps at the beginning of each installment to make things clearer. Flashbacks will always be in italics, and there may or may not be time stamps with those, too. Sorry about any mix up. __  
_

_Chapter Two _

_October 1__st__, 2026_

I hate Mondays. Sunday nights are ruined because of Monday mornings. How can you have a good nights sleep knowing you have to get up at dawn and go to _school? _Really?

I hear Mom ascending the stairwell and getting closer and closer to my bedroom door. _Please be a dream. Please be a dream. _I turn on my right side and pull the covers over my head, as if that will somehow release a powerful, cosmic force that will stop my mom from waking me up- even though I'm already awake enough to hear her footsteps.

The door opens and Mom is soon at my bedside. "Ella," she says softly. She runs her hand along my back and it's a terrible tease-if she keeps that up I'll fall asleep, and I can't let myself fall asleep. "Wake up. It's time for school."

I turn and I see my mother's beautiful face. She still doesn't take compliments well, but she knows she's beautiful. At least, I hope she does. "OK." My voice is weak and hoarse from sleep. I shrug the covers off my body and sit up slowly, the muscles in my back creaking with my efforts and my head pounding.

Mom gently moves my legs so that they dangle off the bed and swing a little bit. I learned the hard way that I have to sit up in bed for a few minutes before moving around. Like anybody else, my mind is in a complete state of haze in the morning, so much so that I my legs move too slowly and I can trip. To prevent it, I sit on the edge of my bed for a minute or two and adjust to the light. Just that action has my legs aching. It's too early for this. I lean into my mother as she stands in front of me, my head pressed against her heart. She wraps her arms me and sways me back and forth, and I hug her back even tighter. "Hi."

"Hi, baby girl," her voice is soft and velvety. If pretty had a sound, it would be my mom's voice. She places a kiss on my forehead, and I keep blinking to make sure I stay awake. Even if I wanted to stay like this forever, we can't, because the real world is waiting.

Mom gently pulls me down to my feet and the wood floor is cold and unwelcoming. I still trip a little, but Mom is there to make sure I don't fall, and she's holding my hand. Eventually, when I'm coherent and can say more than one word, I let go of Mom's hand and make my way to the bathroom through the hall. The bathroom is dimly lit and damp. I shove the shower curtain aside with my arm and scowl. "Mom!"

"What? Why are you raising your voice?"

I can detect her irritability too easily. I can read her like a book, but everyone else has such a hard time. I wonder why. "Why the heck didn't Dad put the bar back up yet? Now I can't shower." My parents decided to re-do the bathroom because of the molding on the ceiling. The contractor said he couldn't save the tile, which means they had to rip it out of the wall. The molding is gone, those tiles are gone, and my bar is gone. We have a pretty new bathroom, but I don't have my silver bar, which means I have nowhere to hold on to when I shower.

"Yes you can. I'll help you."

I roll my eyes and a frustrated breath of air leaves my rosy lips. "I don't want help."

"I know you don't, but you could fall."

As if I need to be reminded of that. "Which is why I need my bar!"

"Dad's going to fix it," Mom says, her voice firm. "Just relax. For now you have me."

I watch Mom reach past the shower curtain and turn the knob. The water sprays out of the showerhead fiercely. Under Mom's expectant stare, I shed my pajamas slowly until I'm bare. I take Mom's hand so she can help me lift my leg over the tub. There's a rip of pain through my muscles, and I wince and moan, but I bite my tongue and push through it. My right foot touches the cold, slippery floor of the bathtub, and I push on it to lift my left leg over the edge. Luckily, the water has already warmed up, and it's nice and relaxing for my tense muscles.

"I'll be right here," Mom says through the curtain.

I run a hand through my damp hair, the other hand planted firmly on the wet tile. Let me just say: this is dangerous. This is not normal. If I weren't trained so well, I could fall, break a hip, and end up back in New York City with Dr. Farrell. Easily. I do this because I have to. This is the only way to shower that doesn't involve me turning on the car hose and getting sprayed until my lips turn purple. Carefully, I reach for bottle of shampoo with one hand, taking off the cap with my thumb and squeezing it onto my awaiting palm. I gracelessly plop it onto my hair and begin to scrub as best I can with one hand.

"Here," Mom says. She moves the curtain aside just a little bit and reaches to scrub my hair clean. Soon her hands and wrists are covered in shampoo and conditioner. "Wash yourself well."

"I know."

Mom moves the curtain closed again, and I close my eyes with it. You ever hear how showering is 5% self-hygiene and 95% deep thought and contemplation about the universe? It's true. So, what am I thinking about?

_How the hell did I get to be 14 and not able to shower by myself?_

I take a deep breath to ease my frustrations, and carefully pick up my body wash to lather it on one hand again. My face is inches away from the limestone. I look down: my feet are inches away, too. Which means I have tons of open space behind me. My knees begin to shake. I'm going to fall in the next three seconds. I'm going to fall and crack my head open. My heart starts pounding against my chest and I immediately try to readjust my center of balance. I move my palms along the slippery limestone and pray for stability. I can't find anything. I'm in an open sea and I can't swim. I open my mouth and I don't recognize the sound of my own voice. "MOM!"

All I hear next is the shower curtain being shoved to the side, and all I feel is my mother's strong grasp on my arm. I don't say anything, because I'm whimpering uncontrollably and my knees _will not _stop shaking. "You're okay," my mom begins. Her voice is less velvety and more nervous. "Ella! You're okay. I have you."

"I want to get out," I choke; my eyes ready to leak tears. I'm hugging the limestone for dear life. "I want to get out!"

Mom quickly shuts off the water and holds my arm. I get out of the shower much faster than I got in, and Mom is wrapping me up in a towel and rubbing my body down. I'm covered in goose bumps and my teeth are chattering. "Shh," Mom tries, rubbing my back. "What the hell were you doing in there? You need to be more careful."

"I was! You see? This is why I need the bar!"

Mom glares at me and her stare is ice cold. "Don't yell at me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Mom! This is infuriating to me! I'm 14 years old and I need help showering? It's pathetic!" My voice has risen already. Ok. I'm yelling. Sue me. "My friends don't have to go through this bullshit."

"Hey! Watch your mouth." Mom finishes rubbing me down with the towel and slips me into my red bathrobe. "Your friends don't have CP, Ella."

"Yeah, I'm well aware of that. Thanks." I harshly tie the bathrobe closed around my body and turn towards the door. "What the hell is Dad's problem? What, he's so depressed he can't put up a fucking bar? His kid has a _disability. I need it." _

Mom lets out an exasperated breath. It's the same breath she takes that means she's sick of hearing me repeat myself over and over. Do you know what I've learned? If you keep bringing points up, those said points are not _resolved_. "Ella, just go get ready for school. You're going to be late."

"You don't get it." I wrench open the bathroom door and stalk down the hallway into the solitude of my bedroom to face this complete failure of a day- and it's not even 7:30 in the morning.

I fucking hate Mondays.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

If people were to describe me in one word, they would say, _smart. _And I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Most of the time, it's literally the only thing. I suppose part of that is my fault. Nobody would dare say "that girl with crutches" as there's a misconception that my cerebral palsy is a gray area that nobody can ever dare mention, ever, or I might go into a corner and cry.

That's not the case.

"Ella!"

I turn to see Katie call my name. She's practically jogging down the hallway to catch up with me. "What class do you have next? Do you want to just cut through the gym?"

"Yeah, sure," I reply without really thinking. All of my classes had passed in a wave, and I didn't realize what it would mean to pass by gym until actually getting there.

When the door closed behind Katie, it was unusual for it to be the loudest noise in the space. At first glance, I thought the gym was empty- it was so quiet. Shadows loomed everywhere, and it was almost suffocating. My dad's Ravens were all standing huddled together, speaking in hushed tones. I silently cursed myself and gave Katie a wide-eyed glance. She wordlessly understood and we quickened our steps.

Almost all the Ravens turned their heads and looked at me with wide, sad eyes. I have to get the hell out of here before they start talking to me….

"Hey," a Raven walks quickly toward me. It's CJ. He's tall, domineering, and broad, but he looks smaller than I've ever seen him. His voice is shy and hoarse, and I feel badly for him. But I couldn't possibly know what they would want from me. I feel badly enough. "When's your dad coming back?"

I feel CJ's sympathetic stare burning through me, and I want to disappear again. It's like I'm their only connection to my dad after what happened. But I was never really that involved. They'd never really said hello to me before, and the first time they do, it's about this. I want to be mad, but then I can't be. It'd be too selfish of me to be mad at them- pretty damn terrible of me, actually. "Uhm…" I begin, staring at Katie. She looks at me, her lips twisted uncomfortably. "…I'm not sure. I…I think in a few days," I say lamely. It's a lie. He's back already. I saw him leave for work this morning, early. He just didn't drive me in like he usually does. But Mom told me he was pretty adamant about not letting anyone know (besides staff) that he was back at work yet. I don't think he's ready.

CJ nods, and suddenly he's out of words to say for a second. That's pretty amazing since he's always loud and obnoxious in the hallway. Well, not recently and I feel badly about that. "How is he doing?"

_Fucking terrible. What do you think?_

"We're actually going to be late to class, so…" Katie begins, giving CJ a look that was a mixture of sympathy and empathy. She subtly places a hand on my arm but I'm pretty sure CJ saw it, since he nodded and subconsciously backed away a few feet from me.

"Sorry," I apologize out of habit. "I'll let him know that you asked for him," I call, as I quickly retreat out of the gym. My crutches made a _clacking_ sound against the wood as they work furiously to keep up with my pace.

Katie holds open the door open for me and I stare at her with a shake of my head. She shrugs and we're off to next period, just like that. Words aren't needed anymore for us to understand each other.

I see Aunt Haley lingering by my father's closed office door, and without realizing, I'm walking toward her. "Hi," I greet somewhat awkwardly for some reason. It's still weird to think that Aunt Haley works here.

"Hi sweetheart," she smiles gently and brings me into a quick hug. "How's it going?"

"It's alright. I'm ready to go home." I motion to my father's office door with a jut of my chin. "Still locked, huh?" My voice softens and I'm almost certain why. Aunt Haley and Principal Curtis are the only two faculty members that know of my dad's return. News travels quickly in this school, so I'd see why he'd want to keep a low profile. It's his first day back, after all.

"Yeah," Aunt Haley says softly. "I was going to bring him some lunch, but his office door's locked for a reason. He's probably not even there. I don't think he's got anything this period."

It was then that I noticed Aunt Haley's brown paper bag. "I passed by the gym and nearly the whole team was just standing there. It was so awkward. They were wondering when he was coming back…I lied…."

Aunt Haley smiles at me, probably because I looked so timid in admitting that I lied in front of her. Yes, I respect her that much. "You were just trying to protect your dad, honey. Maybe he's not ready for all that, yet."

"Yeah."

Aunt Haley motions to a classroom down the hall. The volume was thinning as next period was going to start. "Get going, you'll be late for class," she told me in true teacher fashion.

Before I turn to leave, I see Aunt Haley's poorly hidden inner conflict as she debates on knocking on my dad's office door, but decides not to. She turns to the right and disappears.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He wasn't ready. He shouldn't have come back yet.

Lucas had been sitting in his office chair behind the desk, behind the door that said, _Coach Scott, _emblazoned in blue lettering. Whitey Durham's legacy had been so intimidating at first, but soon that faded and Lucas saw it as a secret strength. Whitey's legacy was not the problem.

Lucas' chair faced in the same position: facing the door. He couldn't look anywhere- not behind him, because that's where all the pictures were. Not in front of him, because there were more pictures. Even in his state of trance, he looked up towards his locked door when he heard his best friend's voice. She was talking to someone….

_ I'm ready to go home_

Lucas sat up straighter when he realized Ella was there, too. A part of him-a big part-wanted to open the door and have her sit there with him, ask her why she wanted to go home. She used to love school so much. And she was damn good at it. He wanted to maybe talk with her, really talk with her. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Lucas sat there waiting it out, listening to their soft voices. His heart began to pound in his chest at the fear of them knocking on the door and disrupting him.

_I passed by the gym and nearly the whole team was just standing there. It was so awkward. They were wondering when he was coming back. I lied…._

In that moment, Lucas' shoulders eased up and he was so overcome with the thought of Ella looking out for him that he teared up. Recently she wasn't able to look him in the eye even. He acted like he didn't notice. But he did. Of course he did. How could he not?

But it wasn't his fault, he told himself. Or rather, he tried to. He sat in his office chair for a little longer, and when he was sure that most students were safely tucked away in classrooms and the hallway was desolate, Lucas gently turned the doorknob. He quickly left his office before he suffocated and shut the door quietly behind him.

When Lucas entered his gym for the first time in two weeks, it was empty. His first guess was that the Ravens had disbanded and went on to complete the school day. He felt bad about that, but Ella was right. He wasn't ready to deal with it all yet. How could he help them process it, when he couldn't even do it himself?

His solitary steps echoed off the walls. Nathan's jersey and Jamie's jersey hung up there. Numerous state champ banners hung like decorations. His Ravens were performers, and this…this was their stage. It always had been. The gym had always been so beautiful and majestic. Magic happened within these walls. He saw it in his Raven's eyes when they won a playoff game. When a player made the impossible shot at the buzzer. When they tore through the gym like an unstoppable army as soon as the clock struck midnight. Lucas sat down on the bleachers and surveyed it all. He turned to his left, and he noticed a solitary red rose that -just by luck-happened to be right next to him. One of his Ravens left it there. Probably CJ Everett. Lucas carefully picked it up and twirled it in his fingers, the stem a deep forest green and the rose a deep, deep red.

_-x-_

_ Subbing a class was tricky business at Tree Hill High. By the time class rolled around, the students are fully aware of their teacher's absence, so they all disperse and skip the period. That was a lucky day. An unlucky day was when the students really didn't care about anything because they had no class, which meant it was a pain in the ass to even take attendance. _

_ Luckily, Lucas was pretty lax about all of that, and just let the students do whatever they wanted to do. If they wanted to play with any of his equipment, he had crates full. If students had work to do, he had no problem with them sitting in groups and finishing up on homework that they were supposed to do the night before. If students didn't show up for the period, Lucas would mark them as cutting and that would be the end of the story. He usually had the students in the gym so they could at the very least, get out all their bottled up energy instead of keeping them quarantined in a classroom. _

_ He was expecting a few kids at least. But today, there were only three. He was probably subbing an elective period. All the kids were more scattered than usual. As Lucas walked towards the other end of the gym, he recognized the two laughing kids by the bleachers, but didn't recognize the third tall kid standing under the basket at the free throw line. _

_ "Yo, put that away. You suck," CJ Everett snickered in between his laughter. His tall legs were bent at the knee as he sat casually on the bleachers, arms bent behind him. _

_ "Shut up," the boy replied, turning to the side. His black hair was cut short, and he wore a black t-shirt and jeans. He pulled his red ear buds out of his ears to rest around his neck, bouncing the basketball against the wooden floor beneath his feet. He mimicked throwing the ball at CJ before pulling back at the last second. CJ merely laughed it off and straightened up when he noticed Lucas was there. _

_ "What's up, Coach?" _

_ Lucas chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not your coach yet," he said, his tone light and playful. Almost all the students called him Coach, even those not involved in basketball. _

_ "You will be," CJ answered with a smirk. He had already been on JV a year and a half, and was more than ready to move onto the bigger ranks. CJ motioned to the tall boy who still stood on the free throw line. "Not sure about this kid though," he said. "Can't even make a free throw." _

_ "How about instead of being a jerk, you help him out?" Lucas turned to the boy. "What's your name?" _

_ "Ryan," the boy answered. "Ryan Hayes," he added after a beat. "I'm a sophomore too, but I'm new here." Ryan bounced the basketball against the ground and aimed to shoot once more. His knees shook once he realized Lucas was watching him. _

_ "Ryan," Lucas began. He stood next to the boy on the free throw line, his own basketball glued to his hip. "Widen your base of support," he said, placing his feet farther away from each other. Ryan mimicked him as best he could. "Square your shoulders," Lucas added. He motioned Ryan to watch how he held the ball in his hands, aimed, and shot. The ball flew in fluidly-it was so effortless Lucas could do it blindfolded twice over. _

_ Ryan copied him and when he aimed to shoot, the ball flew in the net with just as much grace and fluidity. He grinned a wide smile and pointed at CJ in a playful manner. "That one was for you, jack hole." _

_ Lucas couldn't help but laugh a little bit. When he made a jump shot his keys fell out of his pocket. "I got it," Ryan bent to the floor, picked up the keys, and placed them back into Lucas' awaiting palm. _

_ "Thanks. You like basketball?" _

_ "Hell yeah I do. That's one of the only reasons I agreed to come to this place." _

_ Lucas nodded. "You know who I am, right?"_

_ Ryan smirked and a twinkle entered his blue eyes. "Yeah." _

_ "Well if you like basketball, you should join JV. Maybe in a few years, you'll tryout for me." Lucas ignored CJ's snickers from the bleachers._

_ "Yeah, maybe I will." _

x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I started work at the Tutor Center pretty much when school started. I told my friends it was because I could use my own spending money, but really it was because I wanted to help these kids out. So every Thursday after school lets out, I work at the Tutor Center for a few hours. I always sit at the same table-in the corner by the window and the water cooler. That way, I get natural light even on cloudy days, and I don't have to walk too far to fill a cup with water. Plus, it gives students more incentive to work with me.

_Welcome to your life  
There's no turning back  
Even while we sleep  
We will find you  
Acting on your best behavior  
Turn your back on mother nature  
Everybody wants to rule the world_

"Ella!" Hearing my own name startles me, and I pull my headphones out of my ears. I look up to see Sheff grinning ear to ear. "Thank God. I thought you would've left already." Sheff's tall, lanky figure is dominating, and his brown eyes are sparkling underneath his dark hair.

I steal a glance at my watch. 4:45pm and I'm still here. School ended hours ago, and I'm still here. I've helped so many kids that I haven't finished what I have to do yet.

"Do you think you could help me with this homework?" Sheff asks lightly, pulling out a crumpled worksheet out of his backpack. "It's due tomorrow."

"What were you doing this entire time?" I ask, exasperated.

Sheff tries not to start laughing. He's known me long enough that he can't be offended by my tone. I've helped him God knows how many times in middle school. Here I am helping him again.

"I was playing basketball. The gym's empty."

My eyes shoot up to meet Sheff's brown ones. After realizing what he'd said, he was begging to backtrack. He swallows hard and bites his lip. "I mean…'cause…"

I bring up my hand and breathe out air, just so I can survive another second. "Sheff, it's OK," I insist, even though I feel that twist in my stomach again.

"My bad." Sheff finally sits down in the chair next to mine. "When's your dad coming back, anyway?"

I'm gripping my pencil so hard I almost snap it in half. I stare at Sheff until he backs off. "I don't know."

"Sorry," Sheff insists again, his cheeks becoming rosy red. He darts his eyes to the homework assignment in front of him just so he could avoid my glare.

"Don't worry about it," is what eventually passes though my lips. I guess I was right. Sheff didn't have to worry about it at all. That was all saved up for my mom and me. I gesture to the homework assignment covered in Sheff's handwriting. "So what confused you?"

It took at least 45 minutes for Sheff and I to work through the assignment together. I watched silently as he chewed the eraser off his pencil in frustration and doubled over his answers, clearly unsure about whatever came out of his mouth, even when he got the right answer on the first try. I was constantly reassuring him, and tried a million and one different ways of getting him to solve the question himself without me immediately giving him the answer and calling it a day. It sounds exhausting because it is.

I exhaled when Sheff finally put on his backpack and shoved his I-Pod into his pocket. "Thank you so much Ella. You're a lifesaver!"

I can't help but smile just a little. Sheff has always been genuine. Word's going around that he has a crush on me, but I'm choosing to ignore it. "You're welcome. Now I have to finish all of this crap," I gesture to the huge pile of work in front of me that I haven't finished yet. God help me.

Sheff laughs, but he really has no clue that I intend to finish all of this before I leave this building today. The little voice in my head is saying, _are you really?_ Yes. Yes, I am. "Just sign your name out before you leave okay?"

When I'm finally finished with all the night's work, a weight is lifted off my shoulders. I glance at my watch- it's twenty after six. Dad was meant to get me at 6. I breathe out a sigh- I seem to be doing a lot of that lately- and start to close up the Tutor Center. I push all the chairs into the tables, wipe them down, sign all tutoring slips for each student, clock out, shut the lights, and then lock the doors.

The hallway is even quieter than it was when Sheff came, and I subconsciously quicken my steps. They echo loudly on the tile. I can feel the _crack_ of my crutches as they keep up with me, my arms straining underneath the weight of my backpack. The damn thing is so heavy I feel like I'm going to lose my balance, and I almost do a few times. I make it to my locker quickly and swing my bag off of my back, fighting through those regular aches and pains. In short, my cerebral palsy messed up my posture and trunk control. My posture sucks. It's not awful, but it's harder for me to straighten out for long periods of time.

I finish unloading my backpack and shut my locker closed. The noise echoes off the walls and I nearly jump out of my skin. My eyes are on the school exit, and just as I was about to put in my earphones and block it all out….

"Ella?"

I turn around sharply, and I ease and get nervous all over again when I see my father. He's wearing a light jacket over his gray button down, jeans, and shoes. For some reason I don't remember him wearing that this morning. But that seems like another life ago. "Oh, hey." I'm so relieved I don't have to sit in the cold and wait for one of Catherine's parents- probably Lorraine- to come get me, all because I don't have a stupid driver's license. At least in New York City, you can walk everywhere.

"I was looking for you," my father says. His voice is almost unrecognizable and that's petrifying. I realize this is probably the most he's said to me in almost a month. It's almost been one month. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." I easily see the pain in my father's bright blue eyes, and it breaks my heart. So I'm resigned to say nothing.

My father clears his throat and easily picks up my heavy backpack in one hand. I remember when I was five and he'd carry me around in one arm. I watch as he slings my backpack over one shoulder without complaint. He looks at me only briefly and we began walking out of the building.

I climb into the front of my father's mustang and he shuts the door behind me. I quickly reach into my pocket, pull out my I-Pod, and shove the earphones in my ears before my father gets into the drivers seat. I hit the play button on my black I-Pod classic and watch helplessly as the screen blinks twice and the I-Pod shuts off. It's dead. _Great. _I pull the headphones out of my ears before my father climbs into the drivers seat and as soon as he does I turn my gaze to the window. I hear the engine roar to life as if it had never aged, and the car starts to move. I'm not facing my father and even then I can tell that he's uncomfortable with me in the car. Well, maybe not uncomfortable. But he's still trying to figure out what to say.

I steal a glace at him and he immediately darts his eyes back to the road. Eventually, he starts to bang his thumbs against the steering wheel and it looks like a nervous tick. I want to stare at him to ask where the hell my daddy went, but then I'm afraid if I look too long, I'll see something I won't like.

_-x-_

_Even when he didn't have basketball practice, Lucas still found himself walking through his gym. He never apologized for it. Basketball had always been one of his loves- one of his drugs, even. When Lucas was a teenager and going through too much drama for one person to handle, he could've done drugs. He could've rolled a joint and smoked it to bits. But instead, he played basketball. He could've drunk himself to a stupor when he found out his father never wanted him, and his own brother wished he never existed. But instead, he played basketball. And it led him here. _

_ Lucas clapped Russ McCallum, Ravens basketball Junior Varsity coach, on the shoulder. Contrary to gossip, the two men had always gotten along. Lucas stood next to McCallum and watched the JV in a scrimmage. "How's it going?" _

_ McCallum turned to Lucas and shook his head. "I feel like it's the same story every year. The boys get intimidated by that one new player who shuts them all down 'cause he's so damn good." _

_ Lucas took a sip from his coffee and watched the boys in their element. He recognized CJ Everett right away. That boy nipped on Lucas' heels ever since he deemed himself fit for Ravens Varsity. He had no idea that Lucas was surveying his every move. "Which one?" _

_ McCallum pointed with his stubby index finger towards all the commotion by the basket. "That one." _

_ Lucas followed McCallum's finger to a tall boy who had just received a pass and was dribbling past the defense as if they weren't there. He faked out the last one and shot for a three pointer, grinning as it went into the net like magic. Lucas blinked twice. The boy had the same black hair and twinkle in his eyes. "Is his name Ryan?" Lucas asked, stumbling over his words. _

_ McCallum nodded, almost reluctantly. "Yep. Ryan Hayes. He's new." _

_ Lucas looked back and forth from McCallum to Ryan repeatedly. The kid looked like he was flying toward the basket. "There's no way. He was in here last week and I had to teach him to make a basket from the free throw line." _

_ McCallum looked at Lucas and started laughing in spite of them both. Apparently they were both idiots. "I had to do the same thing. At JV tryouts."_

_ Lucas was too stunned to say anything, even after McCallum blew his whistle. "Ryan!" he shouted, in a deep voice. "How many times do I have to tell you to pass the damn ball?" _

_ Ryan looked up, saw Lucas, and started chuckling. "My bad." Ryan threw the ball to CJ (who had been scowling for the past ten minutes) without looking. "Better?" _

_ "Don't be a smartass. I know Lucas Scott is here, and you're all drooling. But in order to get to that level, you have to impress us both right now. So stop being tools and focus on the damn game!" McCallum's face had reddened in anger, something he was known for, and the team quieted for fear he'd have a coronary. _

_ "Hey Coach!" Ryan's voice brought both McCallum and Lucas to attention, but Ryan was only staring at one of them. "Stay a while. Might make it easier for you to call me a Raven soon." He laughed at McCallum's sour expression and Lucas' expression of disbelief, and winked. _

_-x-_

"Dad!" Ella's frantic shout brought Lucas back to the present. He was advancing down the streets of Tree Hill rapidly and the colors of the trees melted into one shade. He was inches away from rear-ending the car directly in front of him.

Lucas' foot slammed on the brakes just in time, and his mustang came to a screeching halt. Both Ella and Lucas lurched forward in the seats, and Lucas put his arm in front of Ella on pure instinct. He blinked and then his hands started shaking uncontrollably. "I'm…I'm sorry," he sputtered, his mind trying to process that he almost got into an accident with his only daughter sitting right next to him.

Ella covered her face with her hands, and Lucas couldn't tell if she was crying or not. He couldn't handle her crying. "It's….it's fine," was all she said, even though her voice was shaking. She took a deep breath then suddenly her glare was like ice. "The light's green now. Go."

Lucas pressed down on the gas and Lucas drove them home. Not another word was spoken. Lucas was staring ahead at the road and Ella was staring out the window. When they pulled up in front of the house, Ella burst out of the passenger side door and grabbed her crutches. Lucas silently reached in to grab her backpack, but Ella grabbed that before he could. She nearly stumbled and fell backwards from the bag's weight, but ultimately kept steady.

"I can help you…" Lucas tried, but Ella would hear none of it, and slung her bag onto her back and stalked towards the front door, wrenched it open, and clambered up the stairs to the safety of her bedroom.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I didn't realize I had started crying until I felt the tears on my cheeks. I had been sitting all alone for twenty minutes. My desk sat untouched, as I'd left it the day before. Through the window that was my glance to the outside world, I saw my father advance steadily back to his mustang. It was almost like he never left it. _But where the hell could he be going?_

As soon as my father's mustang pulled away from the curb and disappeared, I left my bedroom and crept down the stairs. Lately, I preferred when the house was empty. I could finally have time away from assuming eyes, and I could do whatever I wanted.

My Steinway upright sits in the living room next to my mother's record player, waiting for me to arrive. I sit and open the cover, and the iron keys gleam brightly against their black frame. I run my fingers along the keys and I feel a fire burst through my fingertips- the same fire that's always there when I pick up a pen to write something down. I first sat at a piano when I was five and Mia Catalano babysat me at my mother's record label. Not everyone can say that they had a famous musician teach them to play piano, but I did.

The first musician who ever inspired me was Ray Charles, and _Hit the Road Jack_ was the first complete tune I ever learned. The notes have a way of sucking me in, and after the first chord I am completely at mercy of the music- so much so that twenty minutes at the piano can easily turn into two hours.

_Don't set me free  
And leave me all alone  
Don't make me be  
Just a rolling stone  
Lock me up and throw the key away  
Make me a prisoner night and day  
And whatever you do to me  
Don't set me free_

"Ella?"

I hear my name being called and the chords come to an abrupt halt, crashing down to silence. I turn to the door, strain my ears and soon I hear that _clack_ of Mom's heels against the hardwood. That's the sound I would always wait for, even if it meant sitting by the window for hours until I heard her walk up from the driveway, or sitting on the front porch with tears rolling down my cheeks until I saw her comet pull up to the curb.

I jump from the piano and soon there's no proof that I had ever sat there to begin with. I walk precariously towards the very door my mother had just entered. Today she's wearing her leather jacket, (she still refuses to let me borrow it) dark jeans, and a white tee shirt. Sunglasses hide her green eyes, but I can tell she's happy to see me by that big smile on her face. "Hi baby," she says, and I fall into her hug. She hugs me tightly and I do the same.

"Hi."

"How was your day?"

_Oh, you know. Dad and his stupidity almost got me into a car accident. _"It was fine. I tutored kids until six today. Sheff came in and it took _forever_ for him and I to finish one worksheet. I wanted to chew my pencil to bits."

Mom laughed. So much life enters the house whenever she gets home. There's no house without her.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Mom is an amazing cook. She got even better and better as the years went by. But I'm _awful_ in the kitchen. I'll admit it because it's true. I can make a few things, but I'm more inclined towards desserts.

"What do I do now?" I ask, standing in front of the stove. There's a pot of pasta cooking away inches away from me. I can feel myself tensing up, my muscles contracting, my toes curling. "Mom?" I call shakily, knowing I'm seconds away from losing my balance.

Mom is by my side in a second and has her hand on my waist. "I'm here. I wasn't going to let you fall."

"Brilliant idea-having the girl with CP help you cook dinner. I can either fall backwards, or the pot of boiling water can fall on top of me and burn me. I'm not really liking these odds very much."

"My daughter is helping me cook dinner," Mom replies, her voice firm. "And that's because you're not stirring right. Stop being so spastic."

Anybody else would probably think that terribly insulting. I roll my eyes and shake my head in disapproval. In the end, Mom and I just laugh about it. We laugh 'cause it's funny. "I'll throw this sauce at you," I threaten with the wooden spoon.

"You better not!" Mom exclaims, her face lighting up. Her eyes brighten for the first time in a while. I take a quick look around us, at Mom's messy kitchen, at her stereo blasting music, at the fact that she goes barefoot when she cooks…she wears ratty old clothes she's had for years but still manages to look so awesome in it.

_Never mind me. How could he choose to spend a second apart from her?_

"What's wrong?" Mom's voice is soft and I hear her concern right away. I guess I've been quiet and thinking for a little too long. "Are you okay?"

It's amazing how one moment filled in laughter can turn into one filled in hurt, just like that. I can't tell her about earlier, because then the hurt won't go away. "Yeah." My eyes dart back to the stove and my heartbeat jumps in panic. "Shit, it's burning!"

Mom rushes to save the food. "You were meant to watch it, hello!" She gives me a look and I have to hold in my laughter. "OK, maybe you're right; maybe you shouldn't help me."

I start laughing. "I told you!" We finish cooking, just Mom and me, with great music for third company.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Dinner was a modest affair, just Mom and me talking more about our respective days. Apparently Mom has a big client coming in to meet her tomorrow, but her partner label in LA didn't release the musician's information to keep anything from leaking. It sounds pretty damn exciting, but Mom was pretty calm about it. Of course she would be, she meets famous musicians like, everyday.

"Who's that for?" I gesture to the pot of left-over pasta on the stove after our last plate had been cleared.

"Your father."

So the pattern continues. Dad comes home after dark and serves himself the leftovers that Mom leaves for him. It's been a while since he's even sat at the table to have dinner with us, so eventually I stopped asking when he was going to be home. It wasn't going to be in time anyway, so why bother?

"I don't understand why you even bother saving food for him. If he doesn't want to eat dinner with us, he just shouldn't eat," I say plainly, carefully putting my plate in the dishwasher.

"Jeez," Mom tells me, chuckling in disbelief. "I can't deny him food like that."

"You're not denying him food. I'm not saying you should padlock the fridge shut. You know in those TV shows, where they have that cliché scene of the husband coming home to frozen hotdogs in the sink?"

"Yeah."

I mosey my way over to the pantry to scrounge for treats. "Yeah, see same thing except for him, there would be no hotdogs."

Mom starts laughing. "That's awful!"

My eyes brighten when I see candy. "Twizzlers!" I see the look on Mom's face and make a run for it.

"Hey! You weren't meant to find those!" Mom chases after me and I run faster, and this time my swayed reflection in the mirror is ignored. I run deceptively fast up the stairs, laughing the whole way. I make it to Mom's bedroom and plop onto the center of the bed gracelessly, rolling over to see her faux disapproving glance. I smile cheekily and then hide behind the package of Twizzlers in case Mom tries to throw a pillow at me.

"Move over," she says instead, and crawls under the covers next to me.

I tear open the package of candy and we begin to share. I curl against my mother for warmth, and if I close my eyes I'll fall asleep in seconds. Mom runs her hands through my hair, and we entwine hands against her dimly lit bedside lamp. Suddenly the world outside is quiet. I stare at my tops of my hands and see all the tiny bumps right in the center, below my knuckles and running along my veins. "What're those?"

"Those are from all the needles," Mom answers softly. She sounds sad. "And blood transfusions."

"I had blood transfusions?"

I feel Mom nod against the top of my head. "Your father gave you his blood."

Trying to picture Dad with a needle in his arm, all just to save my life, made me swallow a lump in my throat. "Oh. I don't remember that." Clearly, since I was the size of a fetus.

Mom kisses my temple, and I feel her hand tracing slow patterns on my back. The ache and weight from today is slowly fading. Her voice is a whisper, and I barely hear it. "I do." We say nothing, and the silence is beautiful in its own right. "Baby, you know I'm just kidding when I call you spastic, right?"

"I know. I still love you."

"How many times are you gonna tell me that in one day?"

I shrug and burrow further into Mom's light tee shirt that she sleeps in. She wraps her arms around me, and I could stay like this forever.

"_Hello?" _

Mom and I look towards the door simultaneously. "Who is that?" Mom asks, before that familiar voice travels up the stairs.

"It's Katie." I suspect it's just another one of her unannounced-yet-equally-welcomed visits. I turn towards the door to reply to her call. "We're upstairs!"

"_Can I have some of your food?" _

Katie's probably talking about the food my mom put aside for my dad. I sit upright with somewhat of an evil smile on my face. "Go ahead!"

Mom shakes her head in disapproval. "You're terrible." I'm almost positive that my chastisement won't exceed such a remark. If Mom knew the shit that Dad nearly got us in today, she'd probably throw the leftover pasta _on top_ of him.

I shrug, laughing softly. I am indeed terrible. "What? Katie doesn't eat. She's so skinny."

Mom rolls her eyes, but she knows I'm right. We both hear Katie's energized footsteps before she appears in the doorway of my mother's bedroom. She's dressed in a little tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms with her favorite slippers, all the while holding a bowl of pasta. Yes, she comes to my house in her PJ's on a weeknight. There are no limits to this girl. Other people may find it irritating, and I do at times, too. But I just love Katie so much that I find her innocence incredibly sweet and endearing.

"You guys are so cute!" she exclaims, her voice light. She finishes another forkful of pasta before her phone goes off. Julie calling. "Ugh…what the- I just left!" I watch as Katie gently puts the bowl of pasta on Mom's night table, before hurriedly removing her phone's battery and hiding it underneath a throw pillow.

"Oh my God, Katie," I say through my laughter.

"She's so annoying! I give her twenty minutes before she shows up here, storming the Bastille."

"I locked the door," Mom said with a little smile. She patted the bed with her hand, on her right. Katie slipped her feet out of her slippers before crawling towards Peyton and getting under the covers. "You can sleepover, if you want."

"I wish."

"So Katie, apparently my mom has a big client coming into Red Bedorom Records tomorrow. But she doesn't want to tell me who."

Mom sighs dramatically and leans her head against the headboard. "That's because I don't know who it is!"

"I bet you do. Please tell us, Mom? We love youuuu," I sing, kissing my mom on the cheek at least three times to try and sway her.

"Yeah, we love you!" Katie echoes, kissing my mom's cheek and cuddling to her.

"Oh God. I can't handle all this love!"

Katie backs away with a hopeful grin. "So if we stop professing our love for you, you'll tell us?"

"No."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Once Lucas' nerves calmed and he worked at the shop until he couldn't feel his own feet, he drove slowly home and trudged through the threshold to his library. Ella's horrified shout kept echoing in his head the entire day, and it painfully reminded him of his sweet baby girl shouting for him in the middle of the night. But she wasn't his sweet baby girl anymore. So for another night Lucas tried to escape by writing, but the words refused to appear on his computer screen. He tried for what seemed like hours, yet nothing satisfying arrived.

"Luke?"

The sound of Peyton's voice almost made Lucas jump from his own skin, and he harshly slammed his laptop closed. He'd managed to write a paragraph that would probably get deleted anyway. "Jesus," he breathed raggedly, smelling alcohol on his own breath.

"Sorry," Peyton tried gently. Lucas always despised getting interrupted during a writing session. But that voice in Peyton's head told her he wasn't really writing like he used to. "I left food for you."

Lucas took a deep breath that only he himself heard. "I saw," he answered hoarsely. A pot full of cold pasta, that's what he got now. Yet he ached for his solitude again, and quickly.

Peyton swallowed and felt her throat beginning to constrict. She stood tall and saw a distorted, shadowed reflection of her face in Lucas' computer screen. She saw the pain and longing, longing for that simple act of Lucas turning around to face her. But he sat hunched over his laptop, and even if Peyton reached out a hand to him, he probably wouldn't of felt it because he was lost so many miles away.

"Ella said you seemed pretty tense…" Peyton began. She couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension and hesitance that appeared, even if she was just trying to hold a conversation with her husband.

Lucas' ears pricked and his body stiffened on alert. It wouldn't surprise him if Ella told her mother about the events of earlier. "Tense about what?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.

Peyton furrowed her brows in near disbelief. "How was your first day back?" she asked boldly, yet knowing Lucas would never be able to answer that. Her eyes flickered to Lucas' laptop again. "Does Frank still want those pages?"

"Of course he does. He's not going to let up until he gets what he wants."

Lucas used to love writing so much that seeing him think of it as a burden broke Peyton's heart even more. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. Even though she felt him tense at her touch, she ignored it. She told herself he really wanted it, needed it although he was hiding. But she wasn't.

Lucas felt his breath hitch in his throat and the universe was put on hold. Here was his one weakness, trying to seek him out. He froze to the spot as she laid her chin on his left shoulder; let her hand rub down his chest through the fabric of his gray tee shirt. She stopped right above his heart, just like she used to do when they kissed or when they lay in bed together after making love. Lucas smelled that sweet perfume and it was intoxicating, felt her soft lips graze the side of his neck. He shut his eyes and wished for the moment to end and continue simultaneously, his soul and body being pulled in all different directions.

"It's OK," Peyton whispered softly, placing a kiss to Lucas' earlobe. She let her right hand run along his shoulders, back, and neck, begging him to just relax. She ached for him to respond, to just spin around, pull her onto his lap and hold her like he used to. But he didn't move. Even when she kissed his neck at that spot that drove him crazy, he didn't move. Out of the corner of her eye, Peyton spotted that last desk drawer on the left, where a bottle of Jameson was nearly empty. A tear rolled down her cheek and onto Lucas' right shoulder, and she tightened her grip around his chest, hugging him. She didn't want to let go and watch him float away. She placed another kiss soft to his neck, breathing him in. "I love you," she whispered. She only waited a second or two, watched as Lucas shut his eyes and breathed in slowly, his heart pounding against the palm of her hand.

When Lucas opened his eyes again, he was alone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The next morning was a lot quieter than the last one, with Peyton waking up extra early and getting Ella up and out the door. She tried to keep calm the entire way to Tree Hill High School with her phone going off every three seconds. Peyton climbed rapidly up the stairs of TRIC, not bothering to say good morning to the staffers as she usually would. She burst through the door of her office, where Miranda Stone was waiting.

"Is he here?" was all Peyton asked in an affirmative tone. John Knight and the powers to be in LA had high hopes about this artist, and it was quite clear Red Bedroom couldn't afford any more mistakes.

Miranda nodded. "He just got in. He's a bit snobbish if you ask me."

Peyton looked puzzled before walking further into her office. She intended on taking off her jacket and locking her purse away in her desk like she did every morning, but her new recording artist was sitting in her chair. She stopped short and thought she was still dreaming. "Oh, you're kidding me."

Peyton heard a laugh she thought she'd never have to hear again. "Long time no see, Blondie. I heard you really missed Chris Keller."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Uh-oh. What kinds of trouble do you think Chris Keller is going to get into now? Predict in a review :) Is there still hope for Lucas and Peyton? Next chapter I'll be exploring some other characters and their stories, most notably Jamie. What do you think he's up to? Stay tuned :)_


	4. Chapter 3

___Thanks for all your reviews, everyone! Sorry this chapter took me a little longer than the others...I'm trying to have multiple chapters written before I post, but it's difficult sometimes. I hope you enjoy! _**  
**

_Chapter Three _

_October 2__nd_, _2026_

Chris Keller still wore that same, smug grin. He had aged considerably, but he had aged well. He had long ditched the goofish appearance he once thought made him a charmer for a more suave, sexy look. He wore black-rimmed glasses and his face was painted with just a bit of stubble to show his more "mature" side.

"Tell me this is a mistake." Peyton pleaded, a worn look all over her face. She wished she had a hard surface to bang her head against.

"Tell me this is Red Bedroom Records," Chris countered, jovially crossing his ankles and leaning back in Peyton's chair. He looked around at Peyton's office space, admiring the tall brick walls, the finished floors, album covers and collages of bands she had signed. Chris watched Peyton walking toward him in her tall, black heels, accentuating those legs of hers. Her skin was kissed all over by the sun and her hair had gotten darker. She had aged since he last saw her, they all had. But she was still insanely hot. "You look good, Blondie," he said, his voice raspy and only slightly seductive.

Peyton let out a breath and ignored the way Chris was leering at her in that not-overly-offensive-but-overly-confident-Chris Keller-'I speak in third person' kind of way. And so it starts. "Get out of my chair."

Chris chuckled and slowly complied. "Always so warm and welcoming." His eyes traveled subtly down the blouse she was wearing that made her look so shapely and finished down to her left hand. "So, you're married. How is Lucas anyway?" he asked, a smile tugging on his lips.

Peyton ignored him, setting down her purse on the desk dramatically and breathing out yet another sigh. "Chris, seriously, why are you here?"

Chris almost looked puzzled for a second. "Because I'm a musician and I've been signed to this label. Well, actually I signed out to Sire Records in LA but John Knight put me here. I guess you're stuck with me." He finished with that cheeky grin and Peyton was suddenly so annoyed she wanted to hit him like she had a few times previously.

Instead, Peyton stared at him with a straight face and looked less than amused. "I'm still not understanding the fact that _you're _the musician who's supposed to save this label." Why, dear God, why?

"I sense a lack of faith here," Chris pointed out, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Oh come on, Peyton. Can't you just look beyond the fact that I _allegedly_ nearly destroyed Nathan and Haley's marriage and was an overall ass, and just admit that I'm an insanely talented and outrageously attractive musician?" Chris relented when Peyton didn't immediately answer him. "I want to make a great record. The rest is all water under the bridge now, I promise."

Peyton bit her lip. Beyond all of his flaws, Chris did know music. And Peyton would never forget that Chris _was _one of TRIC's first acts. "I won't know you're insanely talented until you play me a song."

-x-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-x-

I should've just told Mom about Dad nearly killing both of us in his Mustang. I didn't because I was afraid things would escalate out of hand, but now I wish I did, because it's almost like nothing happened. If Mom wants Dad to get out of that darkness he's in, something has to be done. The question is, what? I don't even think he knows I exist.

This is what I'm left to ponder over on my way to fourth period. I was meant to have study hall, but my adviser gave me a note this morning telling me to go to Angela Matthew's Human Rights class instead. Apparently Angela (she's the only teacher who lets her students call her by her first name) wants me in her class, even though I'd probably be the only freshman. Everyone bitches about how crazy she is because she supposedly assigns ridiculous amounts of homework. Her projects are notorious for being extremely long and overly ambitious to the point where students crack under the pressure and declare it all impossible.

Normally, I wouldn't freak out too much at the prospect of being challenged like this- otherwise I would've never made it through those three surgeries. Back then there was no time for freaking out. Those were the cards I got and I had to just deal with it- go all in. Not many people know of my cerebral palsy as a "formal diagnosis". They just think that "there's something wrong with my legs." They just don't bother to ask me about it. But I'm not necessarily thankful that they grace by the subject like it doesn't matter. It does matter.

The thing is, from where I'm standing there's a fine line and a thick line between enabling independence, and being an ignorant idiot.

Right now, as I helplessly crash to the floor because some faceless force decided to sprint down the hallway to catch an airborne football, I'm thinking this guy was being an ignorant idiot. My crutches are sprawled out in front of me, twisting my arms at an impossible angle as the weight of my backpack pushes me closer to the tiled floor. I shut my eyes closed, trying to block out the chorused moan of bereavement from fellow students who have probably formed a ring around me by now. They are unknowingly adding fire to this spectacle; one that I wish would fade just as quickly as my last shred of dignity. They all moan in lament, yet not a _single_ one of them steps out of their circle to offer me a helping hand and pull me to safe haven. Not even my father. I'm silently hoping he'll run out and pull me up and yell at this kid for causing me harm, but he doesn't. My dad's office door is still locked and the window blinds are still drawn. So I'll have to get back up myself, like I have so many other times. With equal skill and haphazardness, I detach my arms from the cuffs of my crutches and push up with my hands, and although the backpack fights to push me down to the floor again, I resist the strain and eventually find balance from my crutches after rapidly picking them up. Not even a scratch on either of them.

I can feel a blush rising on my cheeks and I mentally pray for it to hurry up and disappear. No need to embarrass myself further by something I can control. The kid who knocked me down is wide-eyed and his mouth gapes open. He probably knows I'm Lucas Scott's daughter or something. Or no, forget that: He just knocked down the girl with crutches and feels like shit about it, so that's why the trademark, perfectly-practiced- look of shame, guilt, remorse, and something like superficial pity is sent my way. I'm more familiar with that look than with my own damn face sometimes. How much does that fucking suck?

"My fault," the boy says, his fitted cap sideways on his head. He isn't even meant to wear it indoors. I can't articulate why I would prefer _I'm so sorry _over the blatantly obvious. Yes. Yes it is your fault. Why the _fuck_ are you tossing a football in the hallway? Are we in a zoo or in a school? The boy puts a sympathetic hand on my shoulder that _is _sentimental in a way, but the proud side of me wants to back the hell away from him. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," I bite out, trying to harness my irritation. I force out a tight smile. I fall. I get back up again. It's the part I must play, kind of like Norma Jeane Mortensen succumbed to society and played Miss Marilyn Monroe. I don't think she necessarily wanted to; she just did it to survive another day- just like I'm trying to do right about now….

Now. Forever. Always.

When I look the boy in the eye, his eyes are deep and insightful. I recognize his face. He frequents the tutor center often and works with a senior tutor. He probably doesn't even notice me sitting at my corner table, but I notice him. It's hard for me to forget a face.

I just like the details. It's what makes us.

"Try not to go running with the football directly _into me _next time. If you could skirt around me, that'd be great."

The boy laughs and nods. I effectively reduced his mad sprint to a walk, the crowd dispersed, and I left in seemingly good graces. I say seemingly because I still feel like punching something and then crawling into a hole…. but it's nowhere to be found.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

By the time I made my way down two flights of stairs (much faster than these awful elevators) the fall is something I can forget about-when I have the time. I make my way to room 213A, Angela Matthew's classroom, always has been. A quick glance at my wristwatch: I'm late. I peek into the classroom and students are busy laughing and chatting away. I try the door handle and exhale when I find I'm not locked out.

With my hand curled around the door handle, my legs start to tense up. I can feel my toes starting to curl in my sneakers. I'm getting spastic again. It's like a reflex; what I like to call my own fight-or-flight response. In science, it's actually a human's physical and mental response to danger or a life threat. While my situation is not life threatening, it could be considered dangerous that I'm putting force on a moving door for balance. I take that back- it's definitely dangerous because someone is pulling the door open right as I'm trying to go through. Just like an ignorant idiot, this guy pulls the door open too hard like he's trying to escape, and I fall forward with it. _Again._ This time in creative commentary, it's sideways and softer because I saw the fall coming so I could prepare myself. Still though, my crutches make an obnoxiously loud noise and I am once again the disabled kid who turns a rowdy room full of self-absorbed teenagers into a quiet, concerned bubble of _oh my god get me the hell out of here. _

I get up quickly like it's nothing, even though my muscles are burning and my feet and back are beginning to ache. This new guy, with long black hair and almond shaped eyes, has that same freaking _look_ on his face like the kid with the fitted hat. I don't even bother learning their names unless they matter to me in any way. That probably sounds really mean, but that's how it works here. I'm living proof of it for Christ's sake.

I shake my head, well aware I'm being watched like I'm a mystical creature. "Nice." I take my crutches and hold both of them in my hand. They're made of plastic, and they're skinny enough-and light enough- to make this no big deal at all. I shove the crutches into the hands of this guy, knowing he'll have no idea how to handle them. I'll be silently laughing at him and envying him simultaneously. "Would you?" I ask, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

The guy looks at me, and his eyes dart from me, to my crutches, to me again. Either he's got a nervous tick, or he just drank too much caffeine from staying up late playing video games. I can tell by his outdated, annoyingly vintage Nintendo 64 tee shirt.

"What?" he mumbles. I think he's trying to be comical but my face is stone flat.

I gesture with the crutches more dramatically, and still this guy doesn't it.

"Put the crutches against the wall, Zach," I hear another guy call from his seat. I'm too busy watching "Zach" failing at the simple task of resting my crutches against the wall to notice who bothered to say that.

The crutches are going to fall to the floor again, and I huff out in frustration before breezing past Zach to sit at the first empty chair I see. Eventually the class' excited buzz resumes, and I realize that Angela isn't even here yet. Wow, I just fell for nothing.

"That was probably the best entrance into a room I've ever seen," a voice says. It happens to be sitting right across from me at the table. I look up and see a boy, and I figure out that he's the boy who told Zach to put the crutches against the wall. His voice has the same assertive tone to it. _He's smart. _

I find myself laughing softly for the first time today. "I try."

"You'll have to forgive Zach; he's a space cadet but we love him anyway." This is when I first notice the boy's thin, slightly floppy brown hair. He's wearing a plaid, pink and white shirt and he's got a brown leather messenger bag resting on the table next to him. I can see a Steinbeck novel peeking out of the bag, right next to his open notebook and black ink pen. The boy smiles softly, his rosy lips curling upwards. "I'm Adrian."

Of course it's only after I learn this kid's name that I realize he's _really _cute. He's got gorgeous eyes: a light, hazel shade to compliment his caramel skin tone.

…I wasn't expecting _this _today.

He probably has a gorgeous girlfriend who models part time or something.

He's probably going to forget I exist by the time this class is over.

If he is in _any way_ associated with the word _Raven_, I'm OUT.

"I'm Ella." I told him my name anyway. I quickly try to ease into well-known ground to avoid making myself look like a lovestruck fool. I motion to Adrian's brown leather messenger bag. "How are you liking _Of Mice and Men_?"

Adrian follows my gaze and his brown eyebrows furrow. "How'd you know that's what I was reading?"

Oh, damn it. He probably thinks I'm a creepy stalker who hides stuffed animals in her locker. I feel my cheeks reddening in a blush. _Please disappear, now! _I chuckle but only I know it's because I'm nervous. "I recognize the book cover. It's a _Penguin Classics _edition; I can tell by the black background and the shape of the letters that make up the title."

Adrian pulls out the book and I am proved right. I can see a bookmark poking out through the middle of the pages. "How many times have you read this?" His voice is laced with intrigue and not mockery, and I'm so relieved.

"…A few times," I admit. "My dad used to read it to me when I was little."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. The memories flood my mind; sitting on my dad's lap in his new library, as he read to me whichever book I chose that night (he'd veto me from time to time) by the fireplace. I still remember his passionate, child like tones in my little ear. A lump has formed in my throat and I'm praying it goes away.

"So scholarly."

I'm laughing again. Scholarly is definitely a word (out of many) to describe my dad. "I remember going up to him after I read it years later and being like, 'What were you thinking?' and he would just laugh and tell me how great the book is, even though I tried to argue that it's an intense read for a small child."

Adrian is laughing, and his laugh is contagious. Those are the best kinds. "You had no idea what was going on in it though, right?"

"Of course not."

The door behind me bursts open, and I whip my head to see Angela Matthews enter. She carries a black backpack and her face is nearly hidden by stacks of papers and reading material, to the playful taunts of her students as she finally arrives. She ignores them and drops her stack of paper on her desk, which happens to be right next to our table. Out of the corner of her eye, Angela sees me and a wide grin appears on her face. "Glad you made it, dude! We're starting a new pair project. Adrian can fill you in. Here." I barely get one word in before Angela drops a thick packet of pages in front of me, and does the same in front of Adrian.

I cautiously pick up the packet and read the title: "Full text of the _Universal Declaration of Human Rights..." _

Adrian sighs heavily. "Oh great, new bedtime reading!" his voice is dripping with the kind of sarcasm I'm almost too familiar with. So maybe Human Rights 101 won't be too bad after all.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas sat in his desk chair in his office, leaning his head against his hand. He was wearing his Ravens Basketball shirt for the first time since returning back to work. The fabric felt constricting against his arms, the collar tight around his neck. He felt like he was being suffocated just by wearing it, and wished he could just rip it off then and there. He wished he could magically transport back to the serenity of his auto shop.

A knock on his office door jolted him from the sinking feeling in his stomach. His heart began to race as Lucas quickly looked at his watch. All the students were meant to be in class right now, the hallways were meant to be empty. Lucas gripped the desk hard with his fingers, shutting his eyes and praying the person would think him not there and leave him be. He knew it was unrealistic since it was a full school building, but he could still hope-irrational or not.

_"Lucas? It's Haley." _

Lucas exhaled and wiped a hand over his tired eyes. He knew Haley probably wouldn't leave until he opened the door. On shaky knees, Lucas stood up and slowly moved to open his office door: first unlocking the deadbolt, and turning the handle. He opened it carefully, only calming when he saw that it was indeed Haley and no one else. The hallways were empty.

Lucas said nothing as he opened the door all the way and moved back to sit in his chair. He heard Haley gently close the door and lock it. Lucas turned to face her, and he wished he hadn't. She was wearing that gentle, concerned, and sad expression on her face, like she always did when she was the bearer of bad news. Either that, or it meant that she was just feeling for her best friend. She probably wanted to reach out and hug him, but Lucas couldn't handle that. He looked down at his fingers for a second, praying that sad look on Haley's face would disappear.

"I stole your favorite snacks from the teacher's lounge." Haley supplied, her voice soft and heartbreakingly hopeful as she dropped down a bag of assorted candies and chocolates that she knew Lucas always kept in his desk.

Lucas looked up at his best friend of nearly thirty years, and he felt his knees start to shake again under the table. Even now, after everything, Haley was still there. But solitude was best served alone. "Thanks," he breathed out, his throat dry.

Haley nodded stiffly, praying she wouldn't start crying. She still couldn't figure out who was the most emotional: herself, Peyton, or Brooke. Just seeing Lucas like this hurt Haley in more ways she could've imagined, so she couldn't fathom how Peyton was handling it. When did it come to this? Where two best friends for so damn long couldn't find words to fill the silence? But Haley knew for sure: when a friendship fell to that point, it only meant you needed each other more than ever. So she pulled out a chair across from Lucas and sat down, smoothing out the wrinkles on her new dress. "How are you?"

Lucas looked up at her and said nothing. Haley saw the deep look in his heartbroken blue eyes and the dark, dark circles underneath them. She instantly regretted asking him when he couldn't even form a complete sentence to say to her yet. The silence between them only thickened and Haley took a deep breath for relief. "Ella fell in the hallway earlier."

Only then did Lucas' floating feeling dissipate, and his eyes flickered. "She did?"

Haley nodded. "She seemed to be ok, though. Got up from the floor right away, but she didn't look too happy otherwise." Haley knew from experience that Ella, like her mother at times, tried to remain stone-faced about her emotions in certain situations. Haley's perceptiveness never failed her, and it was obvious that Ella was going through something, and she had an inkling of what was causing it.

Lucas swallowed, took in another breath of air and said: "She's not happy at all with me right now. I'm practically a stranger." His knees wouldn't stop shaking and his lips wouldn't stop trembling, his body giving away how petrified he felt.

Haley studied Lucas carefully and her heart broke all over again. It had been broken for weeks now. She wondered only briefly if Lucas had shared this with Peyton after all they had gone through over the summer. She knew that things were frayed: everyone did. Lucas' blue eyes were rimmed with tears and Haley vowed not to push the subject for fear that Lucas would completely shut down. Seeing his tears, some of Haley's own threatened to leak from her doe brown eyes. It just made what she was about to tell him 100 times worse. "God…" she breathed out, mostly to herself. Her heart began to race in anxiousness.

"What?"

Haley clapped her hands together for some sort of support. _Why on earth did I walk past Principal Curtis' office this morning? _That was a lie. Principal Curtis called her in, along with Gabriel Olmos, to ask her to talk to Lucas in private. She agreed immediately as she was going to do it at some point today, anyhow. "Lucas, they want you to speak at Midnight Madness next Friday."

Lucas leaned back in his chair, an exasperated breath leaving his mouth. His tears dried up instantly and his body stiffened. "Whose idea was that?"

"It was a collective…decision," Haley tried, finding herself stumbling over her own words for some reason. The intensity of Luke's stare made her want to look away. "They just thought it would mean more if you were the one who spoke….I mean, you always speak anyway, so…."

Lucas sighed. "There's no…Midnight Madness. Tell me that's not what they're calling it."

Haley swallowed. "I mean…I don't know, I don't think so, but… there's still going to be a season-"

"Yeah, I know that," Lucas snapped irritably. "How the hell do they expect the boys to play?" Lucas realized then how high he was raising his voice, amplified by that alarmed glance in Haley's eyes. "What am I supposed to say to them?"

Haley stared at Lucas for a second, and her heart began to hurt. Most of the boys were her kids, too. They had yet to fully engage in her literature class-and she couldn't hold it against them- not one little bit. "Do you want me to talk to them with you?"

Lucas swallowed and felt his knees begin to shake again. He mentally commanded them to stop, and he took a deep breath. "I guess I don't have a choice."

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

The time I spent packing my backpack after Angela's class finished, I was half expecting Adrian to have fled out the door already. But when I turned around to face the door, he was still there. Trying to be inconspicuous, I made my way to the door and stepped out to the hallway, which had already started to thin out.

"Where you off to now?" Adrian asked me, stuffing tonight's homework into his messenger bag.

"PE," I reveal regretfully. I honestly don't know why I have to take this class; it does nothing for me. It took me a few minutes before I realized that we were walking side by side down the hall. "I can't believe you have to live _here_ after being raised in San Francisco."

Adrian laughed, and I tried miserably to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. "I had the whole summer to get used to the culture shock. It's not that bad."

"I'm still trying to convince my parents to move us to New York City." Adrian and I walk through the double doors, and he holds the door for me. He has yet to divert from my path…is he actually walking me to gym?

"Why New York City?" Adrian snickered to himself. "Wow. I mean, 'Why _not_ New York City?"

"Yeah, really. Well…" Here it is again. That strange feeling that hits whenever I have to explain my cerebral palsy to someone who doesn't know me. The nicest thing about Katie, Catherine, all my cousins…it was already a given that I walk with crutches and have surgical scars. There weren't any questions, really, because that's how it's always been. The first real questions, I got when I was eight…and by then I could explain the situation how I knew it, and people got it. The people that mattered got it.

But someway or another, I'm always going to be challenged by a stranger, or an acquaintance, or a new friend. They'll ask questions related to my CP, and all my surgeries, and how come I'm so familiar with the hospital environment beyond anyone else my age. So although it's pretty much inevitable that people are going to ask about it…I still feel unprepared. And I can't afford to feel unprepared.

"…My surgeon works there," I decide, an invisible weight slowly lifting on my shoulders. "I've had to go back and forth for check-ups and…surgeries, so…"

Adrian nodded, and his eyes look so contemplative. He quickly glances down at my crutches. He probably thinks I didn't catch that but I did. I always do. "How many surgeries have you had?"

I feel my stomach double over and try to push the feeling out of my throat. "Three." One time I told one of my old teachers that I was having surgery and she asked _why. _Is it not painfully obvious, or am I imagining things here?

I thought maybe Adrian would've looked surprised, or alarmed, or in disbelief. But he just nodded. I can't really read him and it's freaking me out a little. "They've helped your walking?"

In my experience, if someone I'd just met were that bold surrounding the subject, they'd quickly realize their mistake, backtrack or apologize. Adrian did none of those. "I could barely walk before I'd had them done." It didn't seem so crazy, and yet so _true_ until I spoke it aloud. Suddenly there's a pounding in my chest and I look towards Adrian for an inevitable reaction: what, I am not sure….but something is bound to be there. I see some sort of recognition, some _flicker _in Adrian's eyes that I can't place yet.

"I wish I had a story that good to tell," was what Adrian settled on, chuckling lightly.

If I were to describe my story in one word, "good" is not what first comes to mind. But if I tell Adrian that, then he'll know my positivity is a trait in my perfectly played character; that in actuality I don't feel as brave as everyone says I am. In actuality I wish I could escape it all, because it's not _good_. It's the exact opposite. If I say that, Adrian will think I'm covered in issues and won't ever want to talk to me again. I'm wondering why that matters so much since we just met.

It's almost like we stop walking at the exact same time. The gym doors are wide open and kids are chattering loudly; looks like I'm on time to a class that matters the least. I look back to Adrian and I can't help but irrationally think this will be our last conversation- last _real _conversation. Tomorrow I'll walk into Angela's class and we'll talk about the project and other superficial bullshit, and this conversation never happened.

"You never know."

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

At least PE is in the smaller gym and not my dad's. That way I don't have to run into him and his players both. He's probably still a hermit holed up in his office…if he didn't hear me crash to the floor in the hallway earlier, than he's definitely shut off to the world. Or maybe he heard me and chose not to come out because he's still freaking out about almost killing me in his car. We haven't spoken since then…not that we've been talking much anyway these last few weeks…but I don't plan to do anything. As far as I'm concerned, he should be thanking me for not immediately telling my mom.

I'm sitting with my ankles crossed away from where the other students were playing dodge ball, and I'm drowning out the noise with music, praying that the period goes by a little faster. I've already finished three assignments given to me since the start of the day, and no one has said a word to me. It's the same routine all over again.

"You sure you don't want to play?"

I look up from my place on the floor to my gym teacher, Rick Landes. His teal eyes are twinkling just a little bit and I see him holding a dodge ball in his hand. I've known Rick since middle school; he was my PE teacher then, too. I still remember what he was wearing the first time I met him: a maroon tee shirt and brown cargo pants and flip-flops. He had a small cherry lollipop in his mouth, and his childlike camaraderie that was there when he introduced himself disappeared when he told me this: "Anything you need, please let me know." Since then, Rick has pretty much _got it _without me having to explain much at all.

"I'm good…I have work to do, anyway." I'm lying through my teeth and I can't bring myself to look Rick in the eye.

"OK," Rick nods without question. He looks me over and I see his signature smirk being sent my way. "Dodge ball sucks anyway," he whispered with a wink, before blowing his whistle to start another game.

I'm left sitting on the sidelines, and I'm wondering when the hell I went from the kid playing in _every game_, to the morose kid watching them.

When the period ended the kids filtered out of the class quickly and I was left behind, I got up off the floor with an aching back, my muscles straining with every step I took. I pass by Rick's little table, where he was sitting with a Gatorade bottle and scribbling on an attendance chart.

"See you later," I tell him noncommittally, hoping to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Hey; wait a sec," he calls. I'm forced to stop in my tracks and awkwardly turn around to face him. He pushes the empty chair next to him in my direction; his silent command that I take a seat.

I huff out a breath of air and take my backpack off even though I went through all that trouble to put it on, alone. I take a seat next to Rick and all of sudden my stomach starts twisting like it does at the beginning of every important conversation.

"I want to talk to you."

"OK." My head starts spinning. Will I finally be excused from the class? Let's be honest, I love Rick and all, but this class does nothing for me. A game of dodge ball where I would last five seconds is not going to make me feel better. It's not going to challenge me physically in the way I need.

"I've known you for a while now," Rick begins, his voice certain. "When I first met you, you taught me more in that one year than anything I've ever learned in my eight years of teaching."

I feel warmth rising to my cheeks and I smile a little bit. Rick told me that my last day of classes in the sixth grade…the moment was so unexpected and so honest that I wanted to cry. He was another set of eyes looking out for me.

"So…I've decided to give you the benefit of the doubt," Rick explains. "I'd like to see you participate….but it's different now than three years ago. "You've started to care a little bit. How you might look in front of your classmates, friends, or guys…"

The statement hits me harder than I ever expected and my heart starts pounding. What is it about Rick and making me cry? I say nothing. Of course I think about how people look at me now. I'm not that invincible five-year-old anymore…and anytime I try to get her back, she fades and I grasp at the fog that has me trapped.

"What I'm saying is, I know how hard you work…. so I'll give you this time to do what you have to do. And I know what happened with your dad really sucks and we're all pulling for him and trying to heal…but if you need anything, I'm here."

I nod rapidly in the hopes that it will dissolve my tears. "OK." My voice is unrecognizable even to me. The idea that others could see my father's suffering was petrifying to me. _What could they be saying? _They must be quiet around me knowing they were wading dangerous waters. I'm not surprised that it was Rick Landes who broke the ice…he was one of the first teachers who would talk openly with me about my CP like it wasn't the elephant in the room. While to others his truthfulness and blunt attitude looked inconsiderate, to me it was refreshing. Except when I didn't want to be bothered. Like right now, for example.

Rick nods, and his eyes are soft. His silence is my permission to get up from my chair, put my backpack back on, and slide my arms through my crutches, wrapping my hands around the handles. Rick watches and makes no moves to help me. It's only when I'm on my way out the door that he speaks again.

"I still think you're this class' secret weapon."

That makes one of us.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Chris Keller finished singing the last line of "Loaded Gun", his hands strumming his guitar with ease. His smug grin returned Peyton's way through the booth window. He raised his arms in self-victory. "That was gold right there," he said, his voice slightly muffled.

Peyton rolled her eyes as she abandoned Max in the booth and walked into the studio. She ignored the way Chris was blatantly checking her out for both their sakes. "It still needs work," she said honestly. She sat down on one of the chairs across from Chris and watched as he put his guitar back in its stand.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say to keep me here," he smirked. His framed glasses matched his fitted black button shirt, and they kind of twinkled whenever he had a line to deliver.

"Is this going to be a constant thing?" Peyton asked, wanting to feel exasperated but instead smiling the slightest bit.

Chris shrugged. "Chris Keller is a package deal." He sat and twirled towards Peyton, crossing his ankles.

"I guess you haven't changed then," Peyton replied, her voice laced in honesty. From their short interactions together it was clear that Chris was going to keep up with the same sly comments and crude remarks he so perfected all those years ago.

"People don't change unless they want to, Peyton."

Peyton's mind immediately wandered to Lucas. Day in and day out she so ached for him to get back to his old she couldn't help but think that he changed through no fault of his own. And she was saying that because she loved him, through the good times and the bad ones. The bad times more than ever.

Chris Keller seemed too absorbed in himself to notice Peyton's change in expression. "Besides, why would I walk in here and say that I've changed?" he challenged. "Don't you think that's even more cliché than staying the same?"

Peyton swallowed, unsure how to answer the question. She'd never really expected it from Chris. Why would she? They had never had a conversation like this back then. "What do you mean?"

"Moody musician wanting to prove that he's actually sensitive and gives a shit, as opposed to walking in here being who I've always been."

Peyton leaned in closer to Chris. She saw the way his body stiffened visibly and she couldn't help but smirk to herself. "I think you do care, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now."

Chris nodded slowly in appreciation for Peyton's blunt statement. He always knew she could see through people without even talking to her that much. "I'm just here to make music," he insisted. "But if you want to do this, we can."

"Do what?" Peyton asked cautiously.

"Get to know each other again. It _has _been a while." Chris cocked his eyebrows in a challenge. "So since you don't want to tell me about Lucas, just tell me about the eight kids you have, or whatever."

Peyton sat up from the chair and started walking out of the studio, heading towards her office. She heard Chris following her and wasn't surprised. He was always so annoyingly _persistent. _"Are you really asking me about my personal life?"

"Yeah, so what if I am?" Chris leaned against the doorway of the studio and crossed his arms, and Peyton couldn't help but notice how his muscles flexed. Scrawny Chris wasn't so scrawny anymore. "Music is personal and you know it."

Peyton sat down in her chair and exhaled slowly. If she needed to work with Chris Keller over the next few months, she might as well be cooperative so the months would move as quickly as possible. "I have a daughter." Her answer was curt, simple, and to the point. "Anything else?" She knew she probably sounded pretty bitchy, but she really didn't care. She considered it payback for anytime Chris even opened his mouth.

Chris chuckled and shook his head, walking closer to the desk. "That's it? Just the one?"

Peyton felt her stomach begin to twist in nervousness she began twirling her red pen in her fingers, praying for a change of subject. "Yep, just the one." She flipped open her laptop to check her emails, just so she wouldn't have to look Chris in the eye.

"Huh. I always pictured Lucas as a big family man." Peyton looked up at him and her eyes were like daggers right through his soul. He held up his hands in surrender. "OK, jeez I'll shut up."

"Twenty minutes and you're back in the studio," Peyton said icily, her eyes not even meeting Chris' face. "I want improvements for 'Loaded Gun' by the end of today."

"Bossy. I like it." Chris turned on his heels and sauntered in the other direction. "I'm hungry," he announced. "Hey, maybe I'll go see Haley. I hear _Karen's Café _has kick-ass waffles."

Peyton groaned and had to refrain from taking the pair of scissors on her desk and throwing them at Chris' head.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

There was a jingle as Haley stepped through the doors of _Karen's Café_. She removed her shades and smiled seeing everything running smoothly. A few years ago, it was Haley who had the idea to re-open the beloved business. She brought the idea to Karen herself and after some persuasion, Karen agreed. There was no way she could disregard the look of sincere hope in Haley's eyes. So, they struck a partnership.

When Lily went away to college, Karen decided to travel the world with Andy in what was a Honeymoon they never had. Thus, Haley looked over things at the café. At first, everyone thought she was crazy trying to run a business, with a full-time job as a high school teacher along with children to raise. But Haley figured, if Karen did it at 22 all on her own as a single mother there was no reason why Haley couldn't do it, too.

Lucas had been her main supporter.

Brooke's Tree Hill Clothes over Bros Boutique ended up relocating to Charlotte, where she had greater revenue and customer traffic. The store was admittedly too upscale for the small town-Victoria was right. _Karen's Café _ended up taking its place to virtually no objections. It was all for the best as C/B opened up more locations in Raleigh, Durham, and Charleston, taking the states by storm.

As Haley always said, _everything happens for a reason_.

She walked through her buzz of customers seeing one in particular; her son Matthew sitting on a stool by the counter, a half-drunk root-beer float next him as he sat hunched over, muttering furiously under his breath. "Hi baby boy," Haley greeted him, ruffling his hair and kissing him.

"Mom!" Matthew huffed irritably, squirming away from Haley's touch. "You're messing up my game!"

"OK, sorry, sorry," Haley surrendered lightly. She dropped her purse behind in the kitchen before re-emerging and standing behind the counter with an apron on. Working at the café was a nice distraction from all the work that awaited her at home. And if she didn't feel like cooking, she could have Chef Jef (or just Jef) save her leftovers. "How was school?"

"It was fine," Matthew sighed, turning off his Game Boy and resting his cheek on the palm of his hand.

Haley eyed her son carefully. Matthew usually loved school, and he would have the most outrageous tales to tell his mother as soon as the clock struck 3pm. She understood his "repel phase" where anything Haley did embarrassed him, but she couldn't quite figure out why he looked so morose. She covertly took out a clean plate from under the counter and cut a piece of fresh chocolate cake, sliding it in Matthew's direction. "What's wrong?"

Matthew's lips curved into a little smile at seeing his mother's old trick. She always bribed with something sweet whenever she needed to have a deep conversation with one of her kids. And damn it, it still worked. Matthew took the fork and began to playfully twirl it in the creamy chocolate frosting. "I miss Jamie, I guess."

"He's up at school Mattie. He'll be home to visit soon, you know that."

Matthew shrugged. "Yeah. He always helps me beat the masters in Pokémon," he offered, to which his mother laughed softly.

The doors to _Karen's Café_ opened again with the same soft _chime_. Matthew saw how his mother suddenly had a huge smile on her face, and he whipped his body around curiously. Few people made his mother smile like that…usually his dad, or….

"Hey Ma!"

Matthew grinned and hopped off the counter of his stool like lightning. "Jamie!" he ran to crush his big brother in a hug, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Hey buddy," Jamie chuckled, patting the top of Matthew's head. He removed his father's ray bans and allowed them to rest atop his head.

"Oh my God, what're you doing here?" Haley wondered brightly, bringing her eldest son into a hug and kissing his cheek. "I didn't know you were coming."

"I wanted to surprise you guys," Jamie said, his voice light. He looked around the café and it felt like home to him.

"Oh yay, I'm so glad you're here!" Haley admitted giddily. Jamie shook his head-it was no secret Haley James Scott adored her children. "Are you hungry? You want something to eat?"

"Sure, that sounds great," Jamie slowly made his way to the counter, Matthew on his tail. He watched his mother put on an apron and make her way back to the kitchen. So typical of his mother to want to serve him even though she had a whole kitchen staff. He guessed habits never die. Jamie cleared his throat and found himself picking at the counter. He had driven to Tree Hill purely on impulse after going back and forth about it, and once he got in the car, he didn't turn back. He left his dorm room at William & Mary at about 10 that very morning, and made it to Tree Hill in record time. Before he knew it, there he was, sitting back home. He just wasn't sure how to feel yet. Jamie cleared his throat and wiggled his chair, seeing how his mom was still in the kitchen. "Hey Mom, did you by any chance, uh…pick up the mail?"

"Uhm…yeah I did, it's in my purse," Haley called back from the kitchen. "Why?"

Jamie slowly got up from his counter stool and made his way behind the counter stealthily. "No reason," he called back quickly. "Just wanted to see if I got anything." He reached into his mother's purse, his fingers moving quickly to unwrap the bundle of mail from the rubber band. His heart was pounding…his mother never allowed anyone to go through her purse….

"Jamie, can you help me in this game?"

Matthew's young voice startled Jamie so much he nearly jumped. Jamie forgot he was even there. "Uh...yeah, hold on one second, buddy."

Matthew rolled his eyes impatiently. He knew from experience that with Jamie one second could turn into one hour. "Oh, come on, please? You're the only one that can beat this part!"

Jamie looked up to his brother and his kind blue eyes turned a shade darker. "I heard you, and you have to wait a second, alright?" Jamie snapped, his voice unusually stern. Ignoring his little brother's mumbled reply, he looked back down to his fumbling fingers, and took a breath. He took out a few bills addressed to him, before one letter in particular caught his eye, addressed to:

_Mr. and Mrs. Nathan R. Scott_

Jamie saw the College of William & Mary emblem in the top left corner, and his fingers started shaking as he saw it was from the Dean of Studies. He quickly folded the letter and shoved it in his back pocket, his body covered in guilt from head to toe.

"Did you get anything?" Haley asked, placing a plate of burger and fries down on the counter for Jamie.

"What? Oh….yeah," Jamie neatly put the bundle of letters back in his mother's purse and zipped it closed, his heart beat slowing down back to normal. "Credit and storage bills," he said, slapping the bills in his hand and chuckling nervously.

Haley looked at him with that chiding gaze as Jamie slid back into his seat. "Don't fool around with those and pay them," she slid a glass of ice water towards her son as he squeezed ketchup onto his plate.

"I will," Jamie assured his mother. Haley went off to help another customer and Jamie busied himself with his plate of food, now realizing that he was pretty hungry.

"What letter did you put in your pocket?" Matthew asked innocently, and Jamie's heart nearly stopped.

"Nothing," Jamie answered quickly. His eyes darted to his mother but she hadn't heard. "Just another letter; it's not important." Jamie caught the dejected look on his little brother's face and he relented. "I promise I'll help you with the game when I'm done eating, OK?"

Matthew visibly brightened and he sat up straight. "OK. Want some of my cake?"

Jamie laughed and playfully shoved his little brother. "No thanks. You can't share a cake that good, man!"

"You sound like Andre."

With the sound of her boys' laughter in the back of her head, Haley went with her coffee pot to serve the lone customer sitting in a booth with a plate of waffles. "Coffee?" she asked, before her eyes widened and she nearly dropped the pot onto the floor. "Oh, no…" she whined.

Chris Keller turned and laughed. "I would _love_ some coffee, Haley. Thank you."

"Really? _You?" _

"In the flesh, baby!" Chris took another bite of pie. "Happy to see me?"

"No!" Haley cried, slamming her coffee pot on the table. "Not at all. Why are you here and what did I do wrong in a past life?"

"Oh come on, Haley. I'm not _that _bad," Chris grinned slyly. "What am I talking about? I totally am. I'm here to record on Peyton's label."

Haley narrowed her eyes in an evil kind of way, her hand on one hip. "_You're _the musician sent to help out Red Bedroom?"

"Indeed I am. So Peyton may have mentioned something about me," Chris gloated, crossing his knees and leaning back in the booth. "I love when beautiful women whisper my name," he sighed wistfully. "Wouldn't be the first time, right Hales?" he wiggled his brows suggestively.

"Ugh! You're…" Haley was suddenly so disgusted she couldn't find words, and instead splashed just a little bit of hot coffee on Chris' right hand before turning back around and walking away.

"Ow!" Chris yelped. "So cruel! These hands are money makers!" Chris rubbed his hand ruefully and looked down at his empty plate. "Can I have some more pie?"

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

"What's wrong?" Mom asked, alternating her glance between me and the road.

I tore myself from the window of Mom's Mercury Comet. She always said that when I was older I could have the car. I don't see how, since I don't see driving in my future for obvious reasons…but whatever. "Nothing…I just have a lot of work to do. Angela gave me a freaking' novel to read and annotate by tomorrow." I tell her this instead of the queasiness in my stomach just thinking about the last time I was in a car.

"Well…don't think about it too much. Just try and relax and have a nice time at Aunt Brooke's. She invited all of us to dinner and she wants to see you. And the work will still be there when you get home."

I find myself rolling my eyes. "Is Dad going?" I ask, my tone void of any emotion on purpose.

"I sent him a text telling him to meet us there," Mom answered lightly.

I look at my mother's beautiful green eyes and I feel my heart start to ache. She's so hopeful and it makes me love her and feel bad for her at the same time. "Why?"

Mom looks at me and her brows furrow and she chuckles. "What do you mean 'why'?"

There are a million ways I could answer this question. Like, _he doesn't even deserve to eat at the same table as you if he can't look you in the eyes. _Or, _he barely talks to us anymore and we're letting him in on a meal? _Or, the ever popular, _I don't want him around since he nearly got me killed. _"He hasn't exactly been good company lately."

Maybe it was my tone of voice, or my lovely sarcasm, or my plain expression that made my mother start to laugh….whatever it was, I'm just happy to hear it. So I start laughing, too.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Aunt Brooke greeted me at her door like she hadn't seen me in years. She was wearing a classy white button down blouse with trim and a black skirt with heels to match. "Hello beautiful!" she flourished while bringing me to her arms for a loving hug and kiss on the cheek. "How are you?"

Aunt Brooke is looking at me with those warm-all knowing eyes that say if I lie, she'll know otherwise. "I'm good," I tell her gently, and she nods before ushering me inside and greeting my mother in the same fashion.

I see Uncle Jullian in the kitchen by the counter, setting plates down on the dining room table. I'm surprised to see that Aunt Brooke hasn't gone all out with a tablecloth and candles like she's done in the past; she really does love us.

"Hey Ella," my cousin Natalie rushes toward me with a smile. Her hair is the same color as her mother's, and it's grown past her shoulders. I'm left wondering _when _she got so big. I still remember her as the little kid who liked to play dress up.

"Hey kid," I greet, giving her a hug and a small pat on the shoulder. I turn to see my mother and Aunt Brooke make their way to the table after my mother has said hello to everyone, including the twins who were now sitting at the table impatiently.

"Where's Luke?" I hear Aunt Brooke ask. I wonder why she even bothers to ask when she knows fully well where he is. She's made it very clear that she's my mother's best friend before anything else. No need to add salt to any wounds, here. Aunt Brooke catches the very obvious look on my face, but says nothing.

"I told him to meet us, he should be here soon," my mom answers, before checking her cell phone. Sometimes I hate that I'm so observant and perceptive, and sometimes I love it. I don't have the heart to tell Mom that Dad probably isn't going to make dinner tonight: when's the last time he even ate with us, anyway?

"Oh, good," Aunt Brooke answers, turning to her table. "Dinner's just about ready."

"Here Ella, sit here," Natalie pleaded, pushing out a chair for me to sit as she sat down in the one directly next to it.

"Okay," I chuckle to myself and oblige to the kid's wishes. Andrew is sitting across from me and is holding up a video camera-a present from his dad for Christmas.

"Andrew, come on put that away and eat your dinner." Uncle Jullian chides from his seat directly to Andrew's left.

"But Dad…you said I have to capture the small moments," Andrew pleads with his big brown eyes.

"There will be plenty of small moments," Uncle Jullian promises with a small smile. He points to Andrew's plate of food with his fork. "But your steak is getting cold, so eat up."

The camera is put away and conversation starts flowing naturally. Aunt Brooke went off about proud she was of Sam and how she'd been working on a new script out in LA, while I sat watching my mother check her cell phone every few minutes as the evening went by. As the hours passed, the empty feeling inside me grew bigger and bigger.

I decided that my mother's checked her phone enough times that I'm about to take a pen and a napkin and keep tally.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas gulped down his last glass of Jack Daniels for the day and checked his wristwatch: half past seven. He was meant to meet Peyton and Ella at Brooke's house half an hour ago for dinner. He had lost track of time after a desperate guy called in after his car broke down, an hour before shop was supposed to close. Lucas had sent his workers home early so he was forced to drive out to tow the car and give his customer an estimate.

What Luke really wanted to do was lock himself in his office and get drunk. Every fiber of his body was dreading having to speak at the "Midnight Madness" next Friday. He knew his team was counting on him, so he had to be there…. And yet as much as he was dreading facing all of that, he dreaded facing his team of Ravens even more. He couldn't handle the heartbreak on their young faces, couldn't handle how he let them down. Didn't he?

Luke washed the oil and grime off his fingers and pulled his wedding ring from off the chain on his neck, resting it back on his finger where it belonged. He wouldn't have time to change, which meant he'd have to go to Brooke's in jeans and a ratted button down. Jullian would probably be dressed ten times more presentable and that made Lucas despise himself even more.

Nevertheless, he was so concerned in getting out the door that he didn't bother sending a text message to Peyton letting her know he was on his way. She would know when he showed up at Brooke's doorstep- hopefully when there was still food on the table. Luke was headed to his car in near pure darkness, his shoes crunching on the gravel. He reached into his pocket for his car keys, and was startled when someone called his name.

Lucas turned around rapidly only to see a tall figure standing against the doors of his shop under a streetlight. He squinted trying to see the man's face clearly. He wore a pressed gray suit and his eyes looked dark and cold, his features hard and defined. "Mr. Hayes?" he asked steadily. "What're you doing here?"

Lucas watched Evan Hayes stumble from under the light towards Lucas in a drunken stupor. "Looking for you," he answered, before advancing towards Lucas at a rapid pace, shoving Lucas backwards with his palms.

"Relax, you're drunk, alright?" Lucas told him, smelling alcohol on his breath. Granted, Lucas was buzzed himself, but at a much lower level. Besides, his buzz was quickly fading.

"Shut up," Evan commanded, grasping Lucas' shirt in his palms. "You don't get to tell me anything. You encouraged him!"

Luke ground his jaw shut, swallowed hard and said nothing. He should've run, fought back, questioned. But he did nothing. He already saw where this encounter was heading…and he couldn't find it within himself to do anything about it. Not only because he was numb, but also because Evan Hayes was one of the most powerful lawyers in Charlotte, and he had money. Money talks. Lucas knew if he laid a hand on Evan in self-defense, Evan would turn it around and Lucas would be facing charges.

So Lucas let Evan punch him in the jaw, hard. Lucas flinched and nearly stumbled from the force, knowing Evan was advancing still. "You encouraged Ryan," Evan continued, his voice slick with disgust. "You took him from me!" Evan shouted, punching Lucas in the face with his other fist. Blood spurted from Lucas' nose, and he grew satisfied at the sight of his own pain, finally physical for him to _see_. "I lost my son!" Evan screamed, his voice echoing off the empty, desolate streets of Tree Hill.

Pain ripped through Lucas' chest, and he spit the blood from his jaw onto the concrete. "I think you lost Ryan a long time ago," he breathed, anger in his eyes.

Lucas fully expected Evan to charge at him, and he didn't budge an inch. Instead, he let Evan shove him against his own mustang and punch him in the stomach and chest, before kneeing him behind his knee. Lucas groaned in pain, his knees doubling as he fell over. He curled his knees to his chest to try and protect himself, but it was all in vain as Evan kicked Lucas in the face, nearly rearranging it.

"Fuck you," Evan seethed, spitting on the ground beneath him. "Fuck you!" he shouted louder, shoving Lucas onto his back and punching his face again, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt and slamming his head onto the concrete.

Lucas moaned and gritted his teeth through the searing pain at the back of his head. He pushed back against Evan's chest, but the man was too strong and Lucas was already too weak. After what seemed like eternity, Evan's breaths became rough and haggard, and he pushed up from the ground. Lucas lay there, breathing harshly and groaning.

"I was trying to help him," Lucas mumbled, his head pounding as he blinked his eyes open and closed. He saw Evan Hayes turn to him blankly and say nothing, and eventually his form retreated into the darkness. "I was trying to help him," Lucas mumbled again, his voice muffled by the blood leaking from his mouth.

Lucas shut his eyes, and was left to lie on the floor in his own blood.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_So I had planned many more scenes to add to this chapter, and almost all of them touched on Peyton and her pregnancy. I decided not to because I felt the chapter would be too long...but I promise the issue will be touched on further. I have not dropped the storyline or forgotten it. It's just a matter of how I want it all to play out. _

_Why did Jamie hide a letter addressed to his parents from school? What's going to happen to Lucas as he lies there in pain with a heart condition? What will happen when Ella tells her mother the truth about the near car accident? What do you guys think of Adrian?  
_

_Here's a little issue: I was planning on making the next chapter a full flashback to give way more background to Ryan's story before revealing what happened to him. That means that next chapter would not be in present day... I would rather do that than drag the storyline out too long... I don't want you guys to lose interest. But also there are many things needed to be touched on **right now, too, like I mentioned.**__So should I tell both stories simultaneously, or continue with my original plan of the flashback? Review! _


	5. Chapter 4

_Thanks to all who reviewed my 'update' chapter. I decided to condense the flashbacks so that they'd fit in more with present day. Although I could spend a great deal on Ryan, I'm only focusing on the important parts. Sorry this took so long, guys. Consider this a gift in the Holiday spirit. Hope you had a great Thanksgiving...remember to be thankful everyday :) xo_

_Chapter Four_

_October 2__nd__, 2026_

The murky light of night shined on Lucas' face. He blinked once or twice just to ensure that it was real. He twitched his fingertips against the cold, damp concrete; just to make sure he wasn't numb. Slowly, very slowly, he rolled over onto his side, the searing pain in the back of his head easing to a faint throb.

Immediately his hands moved to the back of his head, waiting to pull back and see blood on the back of his fingers, but there was none there. Body still buzzing in shock, Lucas staggered his way back towards his auto shop, a solitary figure under a hazy streetlight.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I had to leave the room right after desert. I couldn't take my mother's sad expressions, the way her eyes had dimmed from such a vibrant green, and the way her cheeks softened in a sort of vulnerable, poetic grace as her hands gripped the cell phone. She casually paced the dining room floor with Aunt Brooke when she insisted on clearing the table.

A few minutes after I sat down Andrew and Jude ran out the door to the deck and practically sprinted down the stairs with a soccer ball. They began to kick it around, only marginally noticing that I was sitting there and watching them. I realized how much I envied them, how badly I wished I could wash away the hours just playing soccer in my backyard- without having to worry about what I'm doing with my life and if it will even matter a few years from now.

Jude kicked the soccer ball askew and it rolled across the grass and to my feet. My feet twitched and my knee jerked in a reflex, almost like my legs knew the soccer ball was resting there. Instead of bothering to kick the ball back to Jude because I knew I'd embarrass myself, I picked my soccer ball up and tossed it with my not-so-surprisingly strong arms.

"You don't want to play with us, Ella?" Andrew asked, his voice so light and wonderfully innocent. I wish I could say the same about me.

"I'm good, thanks," I tell Andrew, holding up my weight on my arms.

"Wait, what's wrong with your legs again?" Jude asks, his voice calm and curious. Here's that moment again. That no matter how the question is phased, it's like a punch in the gut, an uncomfortable twist in my stomach that I cannot name: a reality that I am still accepting. It's the same reality that can sometimes make me nauseous.

Natalie speaks before I can. "Jude! That's not something you just ask," she admonishes with a certain edge to her voice, and I can see the huff of air leave her mouth in the dark light.

"It's fine," I tell Natalie, although my stomach feels like it's going to turn inside out. You'd think that after fourteen years of this I would know how to answer someone….. But I don't. The words swirl on my tongue as I attempt to form an answer that will make sense to an eight-year-old. "When I was born," I start, telling myself to make it short and sweet and then forget it ever happened, until it happens again. "I came too early, and I got a little hurt."

"Oh."

The moment breaks when the door behind us opened, and Uncle Jullian walked out and down the stairs. "What are you guys doing out here?"

"Playing," Jude answered shortly, before returning to the game at hand.

Jullian wore a mischievous grin as he intervened, kicking the ball around sloppily. His boys laugh and they tugged at the sleeves of his shirt, trying to steal the soccer ball away from him.

I remember one time, Uncle Jullian took Natalie and me to the park. He was trying to teach me the proper way to swing a baseball bat when his phone went off. I quickly gathered that it was someone from his job by the way his voice got all-serious. Then I'll never forget what he said to the man on the phone: "I can't talk to you, I'm playing baseball with my kids right now."

"Ella? You alright?" his voice snapped me back to the present time, and I saw Uncle Jullian's honest hazel eyes staring at me. If I could ask of him only one thing, it would be this: _never, ever change. _

"Yeah, I'm fine." I feel my body stiffen as Uncle Jullian sits down next to me for reasons I don't know. Maybe it's because I know he'll see right through me. It's a little unnerving.

Jullian nods and looks on to watch his kids play, a note of whim entering his eyes, and I watch a sense of calmness wash over him, and I feel envy again. "My dad wasn't around much," he says randomly, and I feel my heart start to beat faster and faster. Are things really that transparent? What is he implying?

I feel a lump beginning to form in my throat and I'm fighting to swallow it down, and my eyes start to sting.

"It sucked," Uncle Jullian admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. He did it so nonchalantly that I couldn't help but laugh a little. "So if you need anything, I'm around ok?"

At first I think it's a little weird that Uncle Jullian threw it all out there like that. If others try to talk to me about it, they'll try and slip it in random conversations or chip away at it like a sculptor would his finest work. Since when did I become such a tragedy?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Sitting with my legs swinging off Natalie's bed, I don't think I've ever seen so much purple. She's got purple bed sheets, purple comforter, purple pillows…I try to think back to my childhood room- I don't think I had as many dolls and things that Natalie has, although I think I see some dolls that used to belong to me hidden away on the shelves.

"What're you reading these days?" I ask Natalie casually, my eyes dancing over her jewelry scattered over her dresser. I don't think I own that much jewelry even now.

"Um…" Natalie is fishing around her dresser for a hairbrush and I can tell she's not paying much attention. The air begins to grow heavy in awkwardness and suddenly I have this overwhelming desire to leave the room. I don't think she'd notice anyway.

"I'll be right back," I tell Natalie absentmindedly, feeling suffocated. I pad down the hallway, glancing at all the beautiful photos Aunt Brooke put on her wall. I reach the staircase and tell myself not to flip forward and fall like I did that one time when I was seven. I pad down the stairs slowly, and I see the shadows of my mom and Aunt Brooke sitting at the counter. They look deep into conversation and my instinct is to pause and listen. By the time I do, I can't turn away.

"I think it's safe to say Luke isn't coming," Aunt Brooke says. Her voice sounds firm but loving at the same time.

"Guess not," my mom answers softly, and I see her rest her phone onto the table- her admission that after he was three hours late, he didn't show up.

They sit in silence for a minute or two. I'm pretty sure the only sound is water dripping from the faucet sink.

"It's not your fault," was what Aunt Brooke said. I'm straining my ears to hear it all, and at the same time my stomach twists in worry- as if they know I'm not meant to be hearing this. I make no moves to leave.

"I know that."

"I'm not talking about Lucas," Aunt Brooke implores.

I hear a sigh pass through my mother's lips. Her right palm covers her lips, something she does when she tries to keep in tears. I'm on alert just like that, my upper body going rigid and blood racing through me like a current. The conversation I'm hearing is one sided and I'm not surprised.

"Are you not ready to talk about it yet?" Aunt Brooke asked softly.

My brows furrow in confusion. Talk about what? My mom shakes her head in silence before an answer comes out.

"Does Ella know?"

Know what? What am I supposed to know? The twist in my stomach is getting worse. My body reacts before my brain and I'm standing steadily off the step and retreating backwards. I'm trying my damn hardest not to make any noise, vowing to forget the conversation but swearing to ask my mom about it the second we're alone.

Because just before I race up the stairs, I see my mother shake her head no. Of course she does.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I listened to music the whole car ride back, and retreated to my room with the excuse that I was tired. It wasn't until I was coming back from the kitchen with a full water bottle that I saw my mother standing in a room that was always locked.

"What are you doing?"

My mother turns, visibly alarmed. She's holding a polka dot onesie in her hands, but what gets to me most are the tears streaming down her face.

"Why are you crying?" I ask, my voice rising in volume. My heart starts to pound and I almost tear my eyes away because I hate seeing my mom upset. There's nothing I hate more.

My mom harshly wipes at her eyes, trying to protect me like she always had. "I'm not crying," she insists, half turning away from me. I stare at the green paint and the boxes and I want to leave.

"Yes you are," I insist. I know I should leave her alone but the bigger part of me wants to _know_. I want to know what's hurting my mother so I can find it and eliminate it, harm it probably. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It's because of Dad, isn't it?" I press, advancing farther into the room. I think about how many times Mom looked at her cell phone tonight and the possibility that my parents could have been arguing over text message. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing! He didn't say anything." Mom replies, her voice rising slightly. She drops the polka dot onesie onto a cardboard box. "He isn't even here!"

"That's my point!" I shout. I rake my hands through my hair in the frustration I kept bottled up in those torturous hours at Aunt Brooke's house. For every three seconds I looked towards the door and nobody walked through. For everyday I hoped Dad would feel better, to no avail.

"Ella, he's busy, and he's in a lot of pain right now."

"Clearly." I take a deep breath.. I'm going to regret doing this tomorrow, but oh fucking well. If I don't shell forgive Dad for standing her up because she loves him so much. Don't ask me why. "So much so that when he's here, he isn't here. Mom, Dad almost got us into a car accident."

I see a flicker pass through Mom's eyes and her look of heartbreak has vanished into fury and confusion. I find myself doing a little cheer. "When?"

"The other day, on the way back from school. He wasn't paying attention and we almost rear-ended a guy."

"He didn't tell me that."

"Well, now I'm telling you."

"Are you okay?" My mom asks, and I can't tell if her voice is trembling or not.

"I'm fine," I lie, averting my gaze from hers. "But Dad isn't."

Mom stands there a second before brushing past me as if I wasn't there, slipping shoes onto her feet.

"Where are you going?" I ask her, suddenly fearful of the darkness outside our door. My stomach starts to twist again- I started this cascade and I'm not sure I can stop it.

Mom grabs her car keys from the hooks on the wall, turns over her shoulder and says, "Finish your homework and go to sleep." She slams the door shut before I can get another word in, and I am left alone. I definitely can't stop it now.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas managed to limp from the parking lot of the shop to safely inside, where he was leaning dejected over the sink and running cold water from the faucet. The water would sting at first but then numb the pain, so he stood until he couldn't feel anymore. He didn't bother turning when he heard someone walk through the door, knowing whoever it was had a key.

"Ella said that you two almost got into an accident," Peyton's voice floated through the air, filled with concern and something like anger. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Lucas said nothing, simply wiped a white washcloth over his face, seeing small stains of blood follow behind. He heard Peyton advancing towards him and didn't move.

"Lucas-" she put a hand on his forearm so he could turn around to look at her. When he did, he was reluctant, and his eyes were a deep blue- pain searing all the way through to stare right at her. "What happened to your face?" she asked, upon seeing the blotches of blood that covered the skin above his left eyebrow and leaked from his lips.

Lucas sighed and wiped off the blood with the side of his hand. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. What happened?"

Lucas sighed, seeing Peyton's gaze was hard and determined. "It was Evan Hayes. That's why I couldn't come to dinner."

"What?" Peyton asked, in disbelief. "Oh my God-"

"He was wasted. He's not going to remember it by tomorrow morning," Lucas insisted, wincing when a flash of pain shot through his jaw. "With any luck neither will I." Lucas reached for an ice pack he kept handy, wrapped it in a hand towel, and rested it against his face. When he turned back around, Peyton was still standing in the same spot. When she looked at him her eyes were kind of sad, but she didn't do much else.

"Lucas, did you and Ella almost get into an accident?"

Lucas took a deep breath as his chest tightened in guilt. So Ella told her. It only had to be a matter of time. He honestly didn't blame her in the slightest. He could never blame her for anything, ever. "I was going to tell you. I feel awful about that-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" She shrugged and shook her head at him, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing with her own eyes. "What are we even doing? This is pointless."

Lucas swallowed and ignored her gaze, but he couldn't ignore the hurt in his heart. "I'm sorry I couldn't make dinner." He wanted to say so much more, but he felt that block, that floating feeling again, almost like he couldn't stay in the present, because he was being pulled back every time the lights went out.

-x-x-x-x-x-

_Lucas took deep, steady breaths walking along Tree Hill's nighttime streets. He couldn't sleep a wink tonight. His Ravens were going to State the third time in a row, all because of one shot Ryan Hayes made at the buzzer. He was proud of him. He worked through his suspension and showed up at practice to support the team. Lucas had managed to train Ryan in secret without anyone finding out so they could make playoffs. His Ravens had done it again. All the sweat and pain had been worth it. _

_ With every drop of the basketball, he thought back to his time as a Raven and how hard it was for him to walk away from the game. It was weird to think that it all changed one night at a little park by the river. Lucas stopped short to see the lights still beaming through the dark, seeing a figure sitting cross-legged on the blacktop. _

_ "Ryan?" _

_ Ryan turned his head around slowly at that familiar voice. Coach was standing tall over him, a basketball glued to his hip and concern over his tired face. Ryan harshly wiped the tears from his face and remained rooted to the spot. "It's late, Coach," was all he said, his voice shaking. _

_ "I'd say the same thing," Lucas said carefully, sitting down close but not too close to give Ryan space. "Are you ok?" He was cautious, his mind processing logically as he found it did in crisis. The Ravens were going to State, Ryan should be sleeping after a night of celebrations- as Lucas guessed he would be doing, or did. "What're you doing here so late?" _

_ Ryan shook his head and took a deep breath. "My parents," he revealed brokenly, covering his eyes with the palm of his hand before he started tearing up. _

_-x-_

"My head is pounding, Peyton," was what Lucas settled on lamely, brushing past her to pour himself a glass of Jameson. He drowned it in one gulp, all while Peyton was watching him silently. He caught her stare out of his peripheral vision and frowned. "Are you pissed at me, or something?" he asked, less than eloquently. It was late, he was in pain, and he was buzzing with alcohol. Intelligent phrases didn't exactly come to him at this hour.

Peyton looked at him and she was speechless. She let out a breath of frustrated air and wondered briefly why she even bothered coming over here. "No, I'm not pissed at you for _this, _but God Luke, you almost got our only daughter into an accident." She waited a moment, saw his bottle of alcohol, and her heart began to hurt deep within her chest. "Were you drinking that day?"

Lucas scoffed and looked at her in disbelief. "Of course not. I was at work." If he was being completely honest, his memory leading up to the car was a little hazy. All he could think of was Ella's terrified shout and it made his skin crawl.

"You're at work now," Peyton challenged hotly.

Lucas' jaw was ground and his eyes grew cold. He had a growing feeling of what his wife may've been accusing him of, and he didn't like it. At all. "We're closed. What is this? I'm telling you I wasn't drinking that day. I'd never get behind the wheel if I was drinking. I thought you knew me better than that."

Peyton hitched in a breath and tears flooded her eyes before she could stop herself. Her voice was breaking but she could still say the words, "Me too."

Lucas sighed harshly. Peyton had dressed in a nice blouse and dark jeans. Her hair framed her face perfectly and her green eyes still held that beautifully innocent shade that he fell in love with. He counted the feet between them in his head. Six. He could have her in his arms in six seconds, and maybe they could start over. "I'd never put her in danger," was what he settled on, his voice taking a softer tone as it broke the thick and dusty air.

Peyton nodded quickly in the hopes that her tears would dissipate. "I know." She couldn't tell what hurt more: seeing Lucas like this, _or_ the fact that this was the most they'd spoken in nearly a month. A strong urge came over her: she didn't care if it was painful, she'd push him to open up more. Even if it meant blood had to leak from old-or not so old-wounds. "But she was," she added, her heart pounding.

"I know!" Lucas shouted, making Peyton jump a little. His blood was beginning to boil and he had to work to keep himself in check. "I know, and I lose sleep over it."

"Well what else are you losing sleep over?" Peyton shouted back, months or pent up anger rising to the surface. "Why don't you answer me that question?"

Lucas stared at her sharply. He blinked once or twice before all the edges got blurry and fuzzy. He gritted his teeth through the pain of hitting his head, closed his eyes, and opened them again.

-x-x-x-x-x-

_March 14__th__, 2026- _a few months ago….

Her red car pulled up in front of his house, the tires screeching over the gravel and slicing through a puddle. Ryan pushed his seatbelt and turned towards her, a smile gracing his lips. She looked even more beautiful in the moonlight. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "You sure you don't want to stay over and finish celebrating with me?" he whispered in her ear. "We're going to State."

"I'd love to, but I can't," Ryan's girlfriend Melissa insisted. "My family's here and waiting for me. They came all the way from Puerto Rico."

"Meli, it's 3:30 in the morning!" Ryan exclaimed.

"Yeah, they don't care. They're all still up."

"Please?" Ryan pouted, brushing her long, silky black hair away from her face.

"I can't," she responded softy. She pecked him on the lips to make his pout disappear. "Don't look at me like that."

"What am I supposed to do all by myself?"

"Sleep it off," Meli suggested with a wink.

"I didn't even drink that much. Amazingly," he added, thinking back to the events of the night, right when the ball went through the net to when he pulled up in front of his house hours later.

Meli playfully shoved his shoulder out of the open passenger door. "Goodbye!" she exclaimed, an accent finding its way to the slips between the words leaving her lips. "I love you, fool."

"Te quiero," Ryan told her softly after shutting the car door. He was learning Spanish all on his own (it was hard as hell) and he was going to surprise her soon. He leaned to look through the open window on the passenger side. "Let me know when you get home."

"I will," Meli promised. After blowing him a kiss, she slowly pulled away from the curb, leaving her boyfriend Ryan to watch the car turn the corner.

The happiness in Ryan's heart dimmed whenever his girl was too far away. Most days, he still couldn't believe he found her. She was the only girl that didn't take his bullshit, the only girl that loved him and could live without him. She was really the only one who cared deeply about him.

His keys jingled in his pockets as he quickly walked up to his front door. He smirked to himself. He walked the champion walk tonight. It was rare, but it came every once in a while. He loved it. He let the warm nighttime air cover him, and as soon as the door opened crickets disappeared and was replaced by screaming. It was his mother but he couldn't make out what she was saying.

"Sandra! Open the damn door!" Evan Hayes shouted, pounding on the side door by the garage. "Open it!"

"What the hell?" Ryan breathed. His knees began to shake and his stomach began to twist just like it always did on nights like these. The only difference was that he could usually hide under his bed covers, get drunk, get high, or drown it out with music. He stalked out to the kitchen right as his mother left the room. He stood on the other side of the door, debating on whether or not to open it.

"Open the door!"

Against his better judgment, Ryan unlocked the door and turned its handle. His father pushed his way through the door and barely acknowledged his son. "Where is she?" Evan Hayes screamed, his mouth leaking the stench of alcohol.

"Dad, I don't know…" Ryan stuttered, his knees shaking violently. He found himself wishing he never got out of Meli's car, never stopped kissing her, never came into this Godforsaken house.

"Ryan, get away from him." Sandra demanded, stalking into the room. Her eyes were unnaturally cold, her skin hard and frigid.

Evan's eyes bulged and his jaw hardened. "He's my Goddamn son, too!"

On instinct Ryan stepped in front of his mother, putting an arm in front of her. His father was bigger and stronger than he was, but he didn't care. His mother raised him and he'd do anything for her, even if it meant turning the moon and the stars with his bare hands.

"Keep saying that," Sandra scoffed, going into the kitchen.

"I hate you!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "I hate you! Why are you torturing me?"

At this point Ryan's mind fell into a haze. Blurred lines surrounded him, and his parent's voices floated to far away. The air pressed in on his chest and he was worried he might faint. They tossed insults at each other like sport, the words more harmful and more vengeful than the last. Ryan stumbled to the other side of the kitchen, shut his eyes and began to hum the lines to his favorite song. But even that could not provide an escape this time.

"You swore until death!" Evan shouted loudly, droplets of spit falling from his lips. Sandra replied, but Ryan blocked the lesser of two evils out of his mind. "I've been so unhappy for so long."

More blurred lines, more insults.

"Screw you!" Sandra screamed at some point, reaching over for a stranded plate and hurling it across the room, sending it cracking to pieces.

"Mom!" Ryan pleaded, feeling silent tears stream down his face. Almost every part of his body was numb, he was surprised he could walk at all. This was the closest he'd ever been to his parent's fights. He'd usually hide in his bedroom closet when he was a kid, or hide behind his mother's flowing bedroom curtains, watching his mom chase his dad down the street with a baseball bat. Every single memory flooded his mind and immobilized him. "Mom, stop!"

"Don't touch her!" Evan screamed, advancing on Ryan. "Get upstairs Ryan! Upstairs!"

"No," Ryan sobbed, tears cascading down his face.

In a flash, Evan Hayes bounded up the stairs himself, his steps domineering and scary. Ryan buried his face in his hands and quickly wiped his tears, breathing harshly and shaking as he fell back into a chair.

Sandra looked at him and her eyes flickered in recognition. It was the first eye contact she made with him that night. "Why are you crying?" she asked harshly. Silence. "Why are you crying?"

"I hate this," Ryan sputtered, digging his hands so hard into his forehead that his nails made puncture marks. "I made it to State!" he screamed, pounding his fist on the counter. "Do you guys even care?"

"Shh, of course I care," Sandra calmed him, wiping the tears from his face. "I care, baby. Your father…"

Ryan shook his head quickly, knowing his father would hear it. Sure enough, he bounded down the stairs. "What bullshit is she feeding you now, Ryan?" Evan shouted. He faced his wife. "You've poisoned him against me!"

Ryan stomped his foot on the ground and started murmuring incomprehensible phrases into his palm. He hated his father. And it was all his father's fault. No one else's. The minutes seemed to drag into days, and the house never felt more suffocating.

"Divorce me!" Evan threatened, his replies calculated and brutish. "Divorce me!" he said in the exact same tone of voice as before.

_For the love of God, Mom. For once. Just listen to him. _

"That's what you want?" Sandra screamed, the crease in her brow furrowing with her anger and stress. "You're not getting it!"

A burst of energy ran through Ryan's paralyzed soul like a current, sending him onto his feet and through the front door. He was unsteady, but managed to push through the streets, somehow moving like a phantom. He felt as if he was never there. Eventually his legs gave out and he stumbled to the floor. It wasn't until he looked up and heard the smooth rush of river water and saw the magical flicker of streetlights, felt the cold smooth concrete under his fingers that he realized he was at the River Court.

Ryan sat still, staring at the flowing river, crossing his knees when they started to shake uncontrollably. He sat for who knows how long, wishing dearly that the earth would melt all around him and shield him from all this pain and heartache. He tried to think of simpler times, when his father wasn't like this, but he could not. He thought of his mother, so unassuming and innocent and pure in her love for him, and wished he could do something to warn her. Go back in time and stop their wedding. Convince her to leave him once and for all. Sit her down, and pour his heart out. Something that made him not feel so damn suffocated.

"Ryan?"

Ryan turned rapidly to see his coach standing over him with a basketball glued to his hip. Concern was written all over his face and Ryan wished he could just disappear right then and there. "It's late, Coach," was all he could think to say. His voice and knees were trembling. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweat jacket.

"I could say the same thing," Lucas countered. "Are you ok?" he carefully sat down a distance from Ryan to give him space. "What're you doing here so late?"

Ryan shook his head and took a deep, shuddering breath. The air around him was pushing hard on his chest, and he was feeling suffocated again. The darkness would creep up on him like an army and swallow him up. "My parents," he revealed brokenly, every part of his body trembling. He crumbled in tears before he could stop himself.

Lucas nodded, deciding to stay silent and giving Ryan the space to free himself from the burdens he so bravely carried. Lucas feared that if he spoke so much as a word, Ryan would shut down completely, if he put a comforting hand on Ryan's shoulder, the boy would move away from him. So he just sat with him and let him cry it out for a few moments.

"I hate this shit," Ryan muttered through his teeth. He felt every ounce of blood in his body begin to burn in true anger. "Every fucking night!" he swore, his loud voice piercing the quiet night air. "You know, when I was younger I was walking down Main Street and saw my dad sitting at a bar. I thought it was fucking hilarious." Ryan shook his head at his own stupidity.

"What was he doing sitting at a bar?" Lucas asked carefully, although he very well knew what the answer was going to be.

Ryan scoffed, brushing his hair away from his eyes. "Is there any other reason? He's an alcoholic, obviously." Ryan revealed through his tears. "Soon it all made sense, you know? How he'd always stumble through the front door, curse and yell at my mom, yell at me all the time. I figured out why I had to call the cops on him when I was seven, why I watched my mom and dad scream at each other in the street. He ended up taking my mom's car and driving off, but not before he took my mom's purse and threw it out the window into the snow on the ground."

Lucas flinched but made careful not to fill his face with all the emotion he felt-anger, understanding, and empathy… so Ryan didn't think he was being judged. That was the last thing he needed. "I'm really sorry, Ryan," was all Lucas could come up with. Throughout all of their sessions in the Tutoring Center as Lucas helped Ryan with his historical thesis on Prohibition, Ryan would reveal little snippets of his home life, and Lucas knew it was far from "rainbows and fruity unicorns" as Ryan put it.

Ryan nodded. "Me too."

Lucas took a deep breath after a minute or two of watching the river and the downtown lights of Tree Hill flickering in the distance, like fairy dust. "My dad didn't want me," Lucas revealed gravely, a weight lifted off his chest. Gabriel Olmos always spawned about how it wasn't 'ethical' to form 'close bonds' with students, but Lucas knew it was nonsense. He related with Ryan more than any other student he ever coached, and he knew that his Ravens looked to him for guidance. To shy away from that in fear of controversy would be an injustice to education and the difference it makes to people's lives. But it didn't mean that reliving his years with Dan was less painful. "He got my mom pregnant in high school and just…left. He didn't want to claim me, and I found out later he didn't even want me to be born."

Ryan said nothing. He never would've guessed Coach had a shitty dad just by looking at him.

"I was so angry at him for so long," Lucas continued, thinking of his tumultuous junior year right after he joined the Ravens, right when Dan decided to tear down the bubble he and his mother Karen lived in. "For leaving me behind. But I saw how he was with my brother-and later, me-and I was grateful he was never in my life. And if anything, he was the perfect example of the father I swore I'd _never_ be. So maybe this can be the same thing for you, too."

Ryan nodded and sat with it all for a moment. "Yeah, I guess," was all he could think of.

"Seriously, Ryan. You don't have to let this take you over. It doesn't have to define you. I promise." Lucas met Ryan's gaze with an assuring nod. "Who knows, in a _long, long _time, when you're about to be a dad, you can make your wife the same promise I made mine."

Ryan looked at Lucas cautiously and Lucas let out a laugh. "What promise was that?"

"That I would never let her down, the way my dad let my mom down." Lucas slid his unopened water bottle to Ryan across the tarmac.

The two sat in silence under the basketball hoops. Ryan took deep breaths, and slowly a calming stillness rushed from the darkness and rescued him. He covertly watched his coach over. The guy didn't have to sit and talk to him. He didn't have to give him advice, look out for him, and help him graduate from high school. He didn't have to do a damn thing. Ryan felt his thankfulness rise to a surface, and he realized he cared for his coach more than he could ever put into words.

"I really don't want to go home," Ryan revealed quietly.

Lucas nodded. He knew exactly how that felt. "Feel like playing to 21?" He always let the game heal him and he wondered if Ryan would do the same.

Ryan shook his head no. "I'm pretty wiped. I guess crying wears you out." Ryan took one last sip from Luke's water bottle and closed the lid. He looked up to the night sky and a beautiful face came to mind. He hesitated before asking, but did it anyway. "Do you think you can give me a lift somewhere? I want to see my girlfriend."

Lucas smiled softly. He was probably condoning something one way or another, but he couldn't blame the kid. If the roles were reversed, he would've wanted the same exact thing. "Yeah. I can do that."

Lucas pulled up to the curb with Ryan in the passenger seat of his mustang, just as the rain began to pour from the sky. "Perfect timing." He pulled the key from the ignition and broke the silence of the car ride. "Ryan, you know I'm here for you if you need anything, right?"

Ryan nodded with a stiff smile. Last thing he needed was more tears. "Yeah, I know." He took a breath before asking, "Do you mind me asking what happened with you and your dad?"

Lucas shrugged. "Everything was pretty much the same. I went off to college, my brother and I stuck together and we lost touch with him. When he reached out to us again, it was years later and he was very sick. Not long after, he passed away."

Ryan nodded tersely, and Lucas saw a recognition of something or other flash through his contemplative gaze. Whether or not Ryan was wishing or fearful that the same would happen with his father, Lucas would never know. "I'm sorry, Coach. I'm here for you, too."

Lucas nodded a grateful nod. He always knew there was more to Ryan Hayes than people ever gave him credit for. "Thanks."

Ryan sighed and undid his belt buckle, his smirk returning. Meli's porch light was shut off but that didn't mean anything. "Well, time to climb through my girlfriend's bedroom window."

Lucas looked at him with a laugh. He was definitely feeling better.

"Don't act like you never did it with that beautiful wife of yours, Coach," Ryan said with a wiggle of his brow.

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, get the hell out of here," He playfully shoved Ryan out of his car, watched as he shut it and then crossed over to the curb side. Lucas rolled down the window. "Ryan!" he yelled over the pounding rain. Ryan turned to him imploringly. "It's going to be o.k."

Ryan nodded silently, waved Lucas off, before turning and running through the pouring rain.

-x-

"Lucas?" Peyton's voice brought Lucas back to the present. Back to his dusty garage, back to an emptier universe. "Lucas?"

Lucas blinked once or twice. In the corner he thought he saw the kid materialize right then and there, wearing the same maroon tee shirt, black hoodie and jeans as he did that night on the River Court. His clothes were dripping with rain water, just as they did as Lucas drove away in his car. Ryan was wearing the same soft smile, had the same knowing look in his eyes.

The urgent sound of Peyton's heels, the way she softly turned his cheek, pulled him out of his trance. Ryan vanished. "Luke," Peyton whispered, tears lining her eyes. "We have to change things," she tried. "This is pointless," she said again. In a bold move, Peyton grabbed Lucas' hand, rubbing circles on the top of his soft skin. "Just let me in," she whispered to him, her green eyes pleading and soft. "Let me help you."

Lucas swallowed and felt it fall down his throat. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. "I'm losing sleep over a lot of things, Peyton," was what he said. He softly pulled his hand away from hers and stared down at his shoes. "You shouldn't have left Ella by herself."

"So come home with me."

Lucas walked back to the car he was working on, whose owner was moving out of town. "I'm going to finish up here."

Just like that, Peyton's vulnerability vanished and was instead was replaced by the very walls Lucas fought to tear down. She breathed out in frustration and roughly slung her purse over her shoulder. "Fine." Without another glance, Peyton stalked out of the shop, the noises her heels made on the ground soon becoming echoes. Lucas stood watching her leave with nothing but machines and alcohol to keep him company. And he had no one to blame but himself.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

_I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back_

_The less I give the more I get back_

_Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise_

_I don't have a choice but I still choose you_

_Oh I don't love you but I always will_

_Oh I don't love you but I always will _

I pulled my headphones out of my ears to take a break and survey my work. I'd finished reading the packet Angela had assigned, finished typing up a few assignments and a few math problems. At 11:30, I was finally finished with all my homework. I closed my laptop and rubbed my eyes, checking my phone to see no new messages from my mom. I push away from my desk, thinking maybe she came back home and I didn't hear her because of my music. "Mom?" I call throughout the house from the stairwell. No answer. "Mom!" I huff in annoyance. Guess she's _still_ not home. Maybe she'll talk some sense into my dad and he'll open his damn eyes already.

To quell my nerves, I meander throughout my house. I suddenly find myself at the very doorway where I found my mom crying, curiosity burning through every inch of my body. Something in this room made my mother upset. Or was she already upset and just wandered in here, making her more upset?

I flick on the light to see the green paint and cardboard boxes stuck one along the other. How the hell did I go for so long without going in here? Oh yeah, I know why: the room was always locked. Rushed with adrenaline and equal amounts of nervousness, I tread carefully around the boxes. I go about the boxes and pick up the same white onesie I saw my mother holding. For a second I just assumed it was mine, but there was a tag on the back of it. I shuffle through the open box, and all the clothes had tags on the back of them. My stomach began to twist in anxiousness. My mom definitely wasn't pregnant. She had wine at Aunt Brooke's house. A few glasses, actually.

I continue through another open box, more clothes and toys and things that I do not recognize as my own.

Oh my God.

I can't look anymore. But my fingers keep moving. My fingers fall upon something that feels like sandpaper, and I pull it out. It's a thin, manila envelope. I deftly undo the clasp and pour the envelopes contents onto the top of a closed cardboard box. There was a pamphlet on motherhood, business cards, and an upturned photo. I turn it over and my heart drops into my stomach. It's a sonogram. My fingers run over the grainy, gray photograph and my eye catches the date. This is _definitely_ not mine.

I clutch my stomach, drop the photograph and stumble to the bathroom. I think I'm going to be sick. I nearly trip over the toilet and stare into the empty bowl. I'm actually _praying_ for vomit to leave my throat, just so I can say that I _feel _something because somehow simple tears are not enough. But my aversion to nausea wins once again, and nothing comes. Suddenly paranoid that my mother was going to walk in on me, I nearly run from the bathroom and into my backyard.

I end up at the one place that's always been there: Katie's fort. She tells me that her father's going to take it down soon and give it to our neighbors (with much younger children) who live across the street, and I'm thanking whatever God is up there that he hasn't yet. The last thing I want to do is run into the Nowell household and have Julie give me the third degree, but not before saying, "Oh, I'm sorry Ella, I'd give you ice cream but I don't think we have enough." Don't laugh. She's done it before.

In the dark and barefoot, I carefully feel my way up the wooden ladder. I'm up in no time, and I'm reaching for the handles that Mitch had installed just for me so I can pull my body over with my strong arms. Tired and worn out, I lean against one wall of the fort, my legs scrunched up and too long to fit across. I think about all the times Katie and I have spent in here and now I wish more than anything that we could go back and do it all over again.

I'm so zoned out I don't even notice Katie climb up until she sits next to me. "Hey girlie," she greets softly. "SOS?"

This was always our SOS, even when we were younger and we really had nothing to worry about; we just didn't know it. The littlest problems seemed to matter the most in our carefree, simple worlds. I remember once I was mad at Katie for one reason or another and Jamie taped every inch of our windows with construction paper so Katie couldn't see inside the house. I still ended up beside her not even a half an hour later at this very fort, and we were friends again. "You could say that." I whisper hoarsely. I don't even register that I'm still crying until Katie wipes away my tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

"What happened?"

There's so much that I don't know where to start. So I decide to begin gently. "My dad and I almost got into a car accident the other day after school."

"What?" Katie screeched before lowering her voice. "Oh my God, Ella! How?"

I ignore Katie's numerous questions and press on because if I don't now, I never will. "And I didn't tell my mom because I knew it would just bring shit, but I ended up telling her anyway tonight because I just can't stand how she lets him get away with how he's acting. So she rushed out of the house before I could say another word and she's probably laying it out on him right now."

"Good," was all Katie could think to say. I laugh at the spunk in her voice. I've always loved her spunk. "He needs to pull his head out of his ass."

I laugh through my tears and lean my head on Katie's shoulder. "I think you're right; I think we need to get my parents back together." I envy the times where answers were in a movie.

"Hun, you're not upset because they're fighting, are you? Parents fight all the time, because they love each other. Actually it probably means that the more they fight, the more they love each other because they care so much." She playfully nudges my shoulder. "We fight all the time! You tell me when I'm being a nosy pain in the ass and I tell you when you're being a bitch. But I love you to _death_."

I smile softly. "I love you too. But them fighting isn't the sole reason I'm upset."

I watch Katie's confused glance. "So, what's wrong?"

I take a deep breath and my heart is pounding. "Katie, I think…I think my mom may have been pregnant."

Katie's mouth drops and she clasps her palm over her lip. "Oh my God. Are you serious?" At my nod, she continues, "Wait. What do you mean, 'may have been'?"

"She's not pregnant now, Katie. I'm sure of it. We were out to dinner at my aunt's house tonight and she had one or two full glasses of wine. Not a sip. _Glassfuls._ And the date of the sonogram is from the beginning of July. She would've been showing by now, and she's not. You've seen her."

Katie bit her lip, and through the darkness I can see her eyes are wide and wounded. "Oh God. You don't think that…"

"That's exactly what I think," I finish my sentence for my best friend through my tears. "I think she lost it."

Katie drew me into her embrace right as I began to cry for real. She stroked my hair and rocked me back and forth. "Oh, babe. I'm so sorry. But we won't…we won't know for certain until we talk to her about it."

I lean away from Katie's arms to pull damp strands of hair from my face. "Oh no…no, I can't…I can't do that." I don't ignore the fact that she said, _we. _

"I'm going to do it with you," Katie said, cradling my face in her hands. "I'll sit right next to you and I'll hold your hand. We'll do it together."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Matthew Scott snuck down the hallway with a smirk on his face. His mother thought he was fast asleep, but he just lie awake in bed until he was sure that the coast was clear. This past weekend his Grannie Deb had caved and bought him a remote controlled car. This way he and Andrew and Jude Baker could go on those spy missions they always talked about behind closed doors at family gatherings.

So Mattie was testing it out, watching the wheels sneak smoothly along the hardwood floors and buzzing with energy. The thing was flawless. It turned when Matthew told it to, went backwards, flipped, and was the perfect spy gadget. Matthew decided to go show his older brother Jamie. He was so happy to have him home. No one else would understand how cool this was.

Mattie went full speed on his remote and the car lurched forward, advancing towards Jamie's closed door. It rammed against it a few times, and Mattie frowned when there was no reaction. He crept closer to the door and not long after realized that Jamie wasn't alone in there.

_I don't understand why you're this upset….Babe, I didn't want to disappoint you... _was Jamie's plead. Matthew leaned against the wall next to the doorframe, wishing he had a secret microphone or something. All he could do was stay still and not make a sound.

_Of course I'm upset, Jamie! _Came Clara's voice, Jamie's girlfriend. _How could you tell Andre before telling me? Do you know how screwed you are?_

_ Jamie's in trouble_, Mattie thought. Plus he had a girl in there. Totally against Mom's rules.

_Andre was with me when I got the letter, Clara! And of course I'm screwed. I'm royally fucked. But I need you. _

_ I can't believe you didn't tell me,_ came Clara's flustered reply. _How could you let it get this bad?_

Mattie only had seconds to react when the voices grew closer to the door. He jumped from the wall right as Clara burst through the door in a blur and Jamie at her heels, not noticing Matthew in the slightest. They walked all the way out the front door and out of sight.

Matthew couldn't help himself and made his way into his big brother's room. He had blue and white striped bed sheets, sports team posters on his wall, a bookshelf with every inch covered in books, his laptop and printer, clothes strewn on the floor, and an old toy or two from when he was younger. The light was dim from the one desk lamp that illuminated the room.

Matthew sat on the bed and saw the torn envelope and folded paper that was inside it, now on the bed for all to see. Matthew curiously flipped over the envelope, just casually looking, before picking up the letter and starting to read it, having no clue what would become of it. He soon realized this was the very same letter Jamie took from their mother's purse. His eyes danced quickly along the page and his mouth dropped with every sentence read.

_Uh-oh. _

"Matthew!" Jamie shouted, bringing Mathew out of his concentration.

"Sorry…"

The boy jumped and his stomach twisted in nervousness. "What the hell are you doing?" Jamie shouted, anger in his usually calm brown eyes. He gripped Matthew's arm tightly. "Give me that letter." He ripped the letter from Matthew's fingers and dragged him to his door, obviously brimming with anger from his confrontation with Clara.

"Ow!" Matthew shrieked, trying to fight against Jamie's grasp. His brother was so much stronger than he was, though. "Let go!"

Jamie ignored him and pushed Matthew through the threshold. "Stay out of my room, and stop being so fucking nosy!" he yelled, before slamming the door in Mathew's face.

His arm burning in pain and his eyes burning with tears, Matthew angrily turned on his feet. "Mom!" he shouted, intent on telling both his parents everything, to the very last detail and very last punctuation mark on that pretty letter. "Mom!"

Jamie bounded through the door and gently clasped his palm over his little brother's mouth. He carried him, swinging and kicking, into his room and shut the door. He tussled Mathew onto the bed and held him by the shoulders. "Shut up!"

"Let me go, asshole!"

"Matthew, just be quiet and listen," Jamie commanded softly, his eyes a deep brown. He kept his little brother still with both hands on his shoulders, ignoring the fact that he cursed. "Did you understand that letter?"

"Of course I did. I'm not stupid. They're kicking you out of school! You're _failing_," Matthew sneered, feeling a slight sense of satisfaction at the fact that his brother was in trouble after being a jerk. "And you have a week to leave!" Matthew shouted, hoping his parents would hear him.

"Shh!" Jamie pleaded. "You're right. I'm in trouble. I'm in _big _trouble. I'm really sorry I yelled at you, buddy. I'm just really upset. But I need you to promise me that you _won't_ tell Mom or Dad about this."

"What's in it for me?" Matthew wondered lamely. He found his tough guy act was slowly fading once he realized his big brother really was in some bad news.

"You're the only brother I've got," was what Jamie offered. "This may be a little over your head, but you can't tell anyone. Please, Matthew. I'm really counting on you."

Matthew stayed silent, in deep thought. He was always taught to never lie and he hated lying. "Are you going to tell our parents at all?"

"Yeah, I am. But not right now. You need to do the same, ok?"

Matthew sighed. He couldn't escape Jamie's honest stare. "…OK."

Jamie breathed out in relief. "Promise?"

"I promise." There was no going back now. Matthew hopped off the bed, intent on pushing the past events out of his mind. "Jamie, you've got to see the remote controlled car Grannie Deb bought me. It's going to be for my spy missions with Andrew and Jude!"

Jamie chuckled, happy that things could seem normal. "I think I have to teach you a thing or two about being a spy, buddy." He thought fondly to the old days when he and Ella used to play. As he sat with his brother, he knew for certain that once he was alone he was going to use a lighter hidden in his desk drawer and burn that damn letter to bits.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I was lying curled up on my bed, facing the wall when my mother came through the door. I pretended to be asleep when she curled under the covers next to me, bringing her arm around my waist. I bit my lip, praying I wouldn't start crying. So many thoughts were running through my head: how happy my mom must have been when she found out about her pregnancy, if my dad was ever happy, how sad they both must've been when my mom miscarried. If that was another reason my dad was so depressed.

There was one thought louder than all the rest of them. The ugly angels kept whispering it to me every time I closed my eyes: _what if she never could have another baby because of you?_ _What if it's all your fault?_

"You're not supposed to sleep angry," my mom whispered to me through the darkness. "Let's make up. I hate fighting with you." She placed a little kiss on the shell of my ear and my hand entwines with hers. I roll over to my other side to face her.

"I'm not angry," I lie. Well, somewhat. I'm more heartbroken. "You went to see Dad, didn't you? Were things thrown?"

"No."

"Wow, Mom. You're a terrible liar. I can tell even through the dark."

"I'm not lying," my mom insisted with a laugh, and my heart breaks just a little more.

"Sorry Dad didn't show up for dinner tonight," I tell her honestly.

Mom didn't answer to that. "He feels terrible about what happened."

"With the car?"

"Yeah."

A part of me can't fathom how my mom can still defend him. But I think back to what Katie said; it's because she loves him enough to give a damn. It makes me love my mom even more and detest my father's actions with equal measure. But then at the end of the day, it doesn't even matter: we all suffered a loss.

And I can't stop thinking it was all my fault.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_October 3__rd__ 2026_

School the next day passed in a blur that I couldn't care less about, and the longer I sat in Angela's class last period, the more I wanted to get the hell out. My parents still aren't talking to each other, my mom had a miscarriage, and everyday I hate my crutches more and more. The possibility of walking without them fades with each passing day.

The majority of the class period I sat across from Adrian staring into space, not caring if what I was wearing was cute or not or if I looked insane. I distracted myself with busy work, and every so often, I would catch Adrian looking over at me.

"So I guess tonight I'll do half the Power Point, and you the other half?" I ask Adrian wearily about our group project.

"Uh, yeah sure. Or I could do the Power Point and you just find the articles, if you want."

I stared at Adrian for a second. "Why would I let you do the entire Power Point by yourself? That's not fair." I realize I probably sound really snappy, but I can't bring myself to care. I can't keep acting one dimensional for fear of him thinking I'm crazy. "You can tell me no, you know." I'm sick of people thinking that they can't tell me how it is. That they have to be extra nice to me because of the crutches. I'm sure that's the reason. People aren't just that nice.

See, if the roles were reversed, I'd have no problem telling somebody where to shove it.

"What are you talking about?" Adrian asked me, the first time I'd heard him give a bit of an attitude. "I just thought I'd go a little easy on you."

"I don't need you to do that."

"Ella, this is the first you've spoken to me all of class period, and we're supposed to be working on this project." Adrian said, his eyes soft. I can't believe he actually noticed that, since we're not the only two sitting at our table. Our other two classmates are avoiding us out of awkwardness. "I figured you were either really fucking bored, or something's going on." Wow, this kid is bold.

The bell rang right then, and my classmates made a running start for the exit. I put my backpack on my back. "Nothing's going on, ok?" I whispered, wary that Angela was not far from us. Everyone knew everyone's business in this place. "It's just…" I shake my head, and walk towards the hallway, being sure to grab my crutches on the way out. I turned back around, and Adrian was waiting there with an expecting gaze. I can't handle how intense his eyes look.

"Just what?"

"Why do you want to know so bad?" I challenged him with a raise of my eyebrows. We've only had a few conversations. But I remember every single damn one of them, because they were so meaningful.

"Is that such a bad thing? That I would want to know how you are?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "No…no it's not. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to this." When it was beyond clear that Adrian wasn't going anywhere until he got an explanation out of me, I continued with saying, "Just family stuff."

Adrian nodded. "You want to talk about it?"

I shook my head no, turning to walk down the near empty hallway. "Not really."

"It must be weird having your dad and your aunt work here," Adrian supplied with a little smile. Wow. Everyone _did_ know everyone else's business here.

"It's fabulous," I tell him, to which he laughed. I decided, I really liked his laugh. "You're not into basketball, are you?"

"I'm terrible."

Thank God. I pat his arm softly. "Then we're fine."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Damn," Andre Fields shook his head, leaning over a pool table and making his mark. "So Clara hasn't spoken to you since yesterday? Oh, the tragedy."

"Shut up, man," Jamie insisted. "She was really upset."

"I don't blame her," Andre admitted honestly. "How could you let this happen?"

Jamie sighed. He didn't want to get into this again. "I have a plan." He took a sip of his Cola bottle and watched as Andre took his turn, the pool balls scattering over the green felt. He'd taken a drive to see Andre at UNC-Chapel Hill and they were hanging out at the pool hall just outside of the campus. "I figure I just live at your house until I work my shit out."

"What?" Andre asked, baffled. "You need to tell your parents. You think this is going to go down well with my mom? You're out of your mind."

"Oh come on, man!" Jamie insisted. "I'm having a hard time. That's obviously not a lie. I just can't tell my parents yet. Your mom will feel bad for me-she loves me."

"So your master plan is to stay at my house until you man up and tell your parents William & Mary threw you out?"

"Yes. That's exactly my plan. Are you going to help me out? You know I'd do the same for you, no questions asked."

Andre sighed. Jamie was right. He was his best friend and was the only soul, besides Clara, who knew of Jamie's predicament. And to Andre, that meant a whole lot considering Jamie was an extremely private person in all aspects of his life, especially girls and school. "I'll talk to my mom, but I can't promise anything."

"How are you going to explain this to her?"

"Oh, I'm not doing it alone. You're coming with me."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas took a few deep breaths as he stared through the open doors to his gymnasium. His Ravens were huddled by the bleachers, talking in hushed tones, wondering why they were all called from class. Lucas tried to calm his rapidly beating heart and shallow breathing. This would be the first time he would be speaking to his players since Ryan's death. He'd taken a leave of absence for a month without another word. To have to face them, see their heartbroken faces, and answer their questions ….nothing sounded more terrifying.

"You ready?"

Lucas turned around to see Haley gazing at him softly with a small smile. "I told you I'd go with you. Somebody's covering for me." Her eyes flickered and she frowned. "What happened there?" she meant his face. The bruises didn't totally disappear but they were much less obvious. But Haley was the most perceptive person Lucas knew.

"I tripped," Lucas lied. "Just a little banged up." He took another deep breath. "My heart is pounding. It shouldn't be this hard, Hales."

"I know. But it is." She grabbed Luke's hand and he squeezed it in thanks. He pulled open the door, and they walked side by side to face lost Ravens. Even though this conversation was meant to be about healing and moving on, for Lucas it was just another trip to the past. It was just incredibly more painful. Luckily Lucas had his best friend to pull him out before he got lost with the best of them.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Phew. Well that took all day. Next chapter, Lucas talks to his team and we finally see what happened to Ryan. Lucas speaks at Midnight Madness. Ella works up the courage to talk to her mother with Katie by her side, and to Adrian..._


	6. Chapter 5

_Happy New Year! Sorry this took so long...but if I figure if the chapter is long, that makes up for it, right? Please let me know what you think in a review. _**  
**

_Chapter Five _

_October 3__rd__, 2026_

As soon as Lucas walked in to the gym, all eyes turned to him. Every single raven held the same expression: they were lost, and they had nowhere to turn to. They held that same pain in their eyes. Lucas knew he was walking on eggshells, and he had to hold his breath for fear everything would shatter.

"Hey guys," Lucas greeted, having to take another deep breath so his ravens couldn't detect the shakiness in his voice. He felt Haley move to stand next to him and it instantly gave him the strength he so desperately needed. The last thing he wanted was for his team to see him fall apart. He heard a chorus of _hey, Coach_ in all different pitches and timbres, and he took it as his cue to sit on the bleachers facing his players. Haley took the seat to his right. "I know it's been a while since we've last seen each other," Lucas began, his voice gravelly and unrecognizable from where he stood. "I'm sorry for that."

His ravens said nothing; some avoided his gaze by looking at their shoes, some looked at the ground beneath their feet. Some stared Lucas straight in the eye. Lucas took a deep breath again, the most he'd taken in the span of a minute. He looked around the gym that Ryan so often frequented and he still couldn't believe that Ryan wasn't there anymore. How do you comprehend someone being there one second, and gone the next?

_-x-_

_September 5__th__, 2026_

_ Lucas knocked on Principal Curtis' office door. She motioned for him to come in with a wave of her pen. He came in and closed the door behind him; the office was eerily quiet. _

_"You wanted to see me?" _

_Principal Curtis sighed. She motioned for Lucas to sit at the seat next to her. "It's about Ryan Hayes. Have you seen or heard from him?" _

_Lucas stared at her for a second and thought to himself. "The last I saw him was a few days ago," he decided. He was shooting at the River Court when Lucas had arrived and they ended up playing to 21. "Why?" Nancy Curtis didn't answer, and Lucas began to get very nervous. "What happened to Ryan?" _

_Principal Curtis took a deep breath and her pen began to shake in between her fingers. "He's missing." _

_Lucas paled and his heart started pounding. This was the last thing he ever expected to hear. His mind instantly tried to race back to the last time he saw Ryan, and the kid's face and voice was as clear as day in his head. "Oh my God."_

_"He was last seen early Wednesday morning, and when his mother realized he was missing, she called the police-" _

_ "So he's been missing for over 48 hours, and nobody thought to tell me anything?" Lucas asked, his voice rising to a louder pitch as his frustrations boiled to the surface. His star player had been missing for almost two days and he had no idea. He wondered if CJ Everett knew anything and just didn't tell him. But that was unlikely. There was no way CJ would keep news that big to himself. Lucas made sure his players felt comfortable to confide in him, as it was often they felt they had no allies who understood the pressures of the game. _

_ "Ryan's parents shot a segment on the news," Principal Curtis lamented. "I'm going to call an urgent staff meeting this afternoon to let everybody know, and that if they hear from him to let the police know immediately…" _

_ "I can't believe this," Lucas said, mostly to himself. Ryan seemed fine. He seemed fine. He took a deep, shuddering breath. This was quickly plummeting to every parent's worst nightmare. Lucas thought of Ella, who was just down the hall in her freshman math class, and who was blissfully unaware of the situation. But she was also safe. Lucas made a mental note to tell her he loved her when he saw her at home that night. _

_ "This is terrifying," Principal Curtis whispered, and Lucas saw tears lining her brown eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. The second time, the words escaped her lips. "Apparently he left a note." Principal Curtis turned to Lucas, and her eyes were paralyzed in fear._

_Lucas exhaled a deep breath. Yes, definitely every parent's nightmare. It just didn't make sense, and time to make sense of it was quickly running out. "Oh my God," Lucas said again, leaning back in his chair and running a hand across his face. His knees began to shake uncontrollably when the situation slowly sank in. The room got very quiet, quiet enough for Lucas to hear the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. His palms began to sweat on the table, as he sat in his chair and tried to think of what he could do. Nothing seemed good enough; and he quickly realized that he was absolutely powerless. He was powerless to the fact that one of his star players was missing and left only a note behind. That was perhaps the most terrifying part of it all. "I think I should let the team know," Lucas decided, his voice stale and gravelly. They had both been sitting there in silence for quite a while. Time had never been passing so slowly. _

_ "I'll call them in," Principal Curtis agreed, before picking up the phone from the receiver on her desk. Lucas watched, in a complete daze. Before long, his ravens filed in one by one, concerned glances on their faces. Once the door was closed, Principal Curtis turned her attention to Lucas, and his team followed._

_ "Thanks for coming, guys," Lucas began, praying his voice would remain steady and that he could maintain composure. "I need to talk to you about something really important; and it may seem alarming, but you have to promise to try and keep it together."_

_ The boys stayed silent and looked at one another. CJ cleared his throat and bravely spoke up. "What's going on, Coach?" _

_ Lucas took a deep breath. "Ryan is missing." _

_ A harrowing silence fell over the room, as the boys were too dumbfounded to say anything. It was clear they thought it too much to handle. They were just kids, after all. "His parents last saw him early Wednesday morning, and when they noticed he wasn't home, they called the police. If any of you have seen him, I need to know right now." _

_ Silence. _

_ Then, they all shook their heads no. _

_ Lucas' stomach doubled and his heart plummeted into his chest. He was sure they would know something, anything. They were practically Ryan's entourage, his crew. _

_ "If you do see or hear from him, you need to call Ryan's mother Sandra, or the police," Principal Curtis took over the discussion once she saw Lucas could not go on. "I know this is a lot to take. And it's very frightening. But I would appreciate it if you kept it hush until we know more information. We don't want the whole school in a panic." _

_ "I think people should know," CJ spoke up, his voice quivering. "At least our grade; so we can look for him."_

_ Principal Curtis sighed. It was all going to come out eventually, especially since Ryan's face was more than likely going to be on Channel 4 by late afternoon. "Alright." She paused to gain composure. "I know this is scary. But we need to be strong for Ryan. And if you need to talk, I'm always here; and your coach is always here." _

_ Lucas continued at a steady pace, and not a pin drop could be heard. "Basketball is going to be put on hold for a while. But everything is going to be O.K.," Lucas said, and he'd never been more doubtful of the words. "We're all here together." _

_ "What's gonna happen?" Another of Lucas' players, Javier, spoke quietly, his brown eyes wide and fearful. _

_ "I'm not sure." Lucas decided, his voice beginning to shake. _

_ The boys sat in shock at seeing their tough coach in tears. Nobody said a word, until CJ got up from his chair, tears in his eyes, and hugged his coach for dear life. The others followed in their new captain's footsteps, and they hugged their coach, banded together as a sea of mournful ravens. _

_ The boys were told they could stay with Principal Curtis for as long as they'd liked, and a few of them wandered out of her office like puppets who'd strings had been cut; lost, disheartened, and floating on an air of sadness and more importantly, of a loss they could not control. Soon, after about one of one of the more torturous hours of Lucas' life, only CJ remained. He sat in the same chair, refused to answer the principal's attempts at conversation or probes into how he was "feeling". Lucas pulled up a chair next to him, and simultaneously the principal got up from her desk chair and walked aimlessly into the hallway. _

_ CJ wiped furiously at his brown eyes as his knees began to shake under the table. Lucas said nothing and only watched him until the boy felt comfortable enough to speak. _

_"I want to go see Ryan's mom," was what CJ settled on. "She's like a mom to me. And she must be feeling the worst pain right about now." _

_ Lucas nodded in agreement. He got up from his chair and grabbed his jacket. "Come on," he motioned. "I'll drive." _

-x-

_ It was strange enough that Lucas was driving through Tree Hill and everything was seemingly normal; cars filled the streets, people were milling about, stores were selling. It just didn't seem right. People's worlds were falling apart and meanwhile, the world around them was moving along as if nothing had changed. Lucas turned his mustang to Ryan's street, and he immediately saw Ryan's car parked out front of a well to do home. Lucas stole a glance to CJ in the passenger seat, but the boy remained as silent as ever, his gaze peeled to the window. Lucas parked on the curb, cut the engine and exited the car. The first thing he saw was a stoic Evan Hayes sitting on the front porch, next to an open laptop with his head buried in his hands. CJ looked from him to his coach, at a loss for words, unsure of what to say or how to react. Lucas quickly motioned for CJ to follow him into the house when it was clear that Evan was not going to acknowledge their presence. He and Evan had never really seen eye-to-eye, as Evan thought basketball was "a waste of time." _

_ The door was unlocked, and Lucas and CJ stepped in to see quite a few people in the living room: Ryan's aunt and uncle, Ryan's girlfriend Melissa curled up on the couch crying and being comforted by her mother, and lastly, Sandra, who stood facing the fireplace but shot around when she heard the front door open, praying that it was her son walking through the door, ready to laugh and say, "Just kidding, guys!" _

_ Seeing CJ and Lucas together put Sandra over the edge, and her bloodshot eyes released a more ferocious round of tears. She walked over to them and crumbled in Lucas' arms. He could do nothing but return her embrace and hold her for as long as she needed. CJ walked over to Melissa and let her curl up against his chest as he did his best to console her. _

_ Once Sandra could take a breath, she released from Luke's hold. "So you haven't seen him?" she asked, desperately trying to sound "light" but failing miserably. At Luke's answer, she cried some more. "Oh Ryan, what have you done?" she asked nobody in particular. Lucas rubbed comforting circles on her back as he tried to appear put together but was alas, failing. "He left a note," Sandra told Lucas, and he could see the heartbreak in her eyes. With a shaking hand, Sandra handed him the note from the coffee table. _

_ CJ looked horrified and it only made Melissa cry even harder. He rocked her back and forth, back and forth. _

_ Lucas felt nauseous and sick, and every part of him wanted to be honest and tell Sandra he could not handle seeing the last thing Ryan left behind…his eyes scanned over the boy's wallet and cell phone also sitting on the table….he could not handle it. Lucas was going to become a complete and utter mess. Yet, took the note anyway. His knees began to shake, and Luke read the note once and looked away as if he'd been blinded. _

I loved you. You were the best family and friends a man could ask for.

Ryan

_ "He left it right on his pool table downstairs," Sandra whispered to Lucas, and she looked unsteady on her feet. "My baby boy," she sobbed, falling into Lucas' arms again. _

_ Lucas breathed deeply, unsure of what to say. He couldn't say everything was going to be all right, because clearly, it was not. The note had made that very clear. Nobody wanted to say it aloud. _

_ "Mom?" _

_ Lucas and Sandra turned to see a tall nine-year-old girl standing barefoot in front of the fireplace. Lucas looked into her innocent, doe eyes, and he wished he could take her away from all this. He didn't know how the situation could get any worse. A little girl's peace and innocence was slowly being ripped away from her, and he could do nothing to stop any of it. _

_ "Have they found my brother?" the little girl asked, her lips trembling as she could barely stand still on her toes. She clutched the hem of her aunt's black blouse for dear life, as if she were afraid to face the world on her own just yet. She needed her big brother to protect her. _

_ "Not yet, Lucy baby," Ryan's aunt spoke when she saw her sister simply couldn't get the words out. How could Sandra possibly spare the truth to her little girl? "Not yet." _

_ The entire room sprang to their feet when they heard a commotion from the front porch. Sandra, Lucas, and Ryan's uncle ran outside, while Sandra's sister Cristina struggled to keep little Lucy inside. _

_ "Are you kidding me? THIS IS HOW I HAVE TO FIND OUT ABOUT MY SON!" Evan Hayes screamed in tears, before kicking his laptop to the ground. Through the window, two policemen had exited their cruiser and one of them gave Evan a hug. Sandra ran to the front porch, along with Ryan's aunt and uncle. Lucas followed. The next thing he saw was Sandra screaming in despair and crumbling in a heap to the floor. _

_-x-_

Ryan went missing on September 3rd. They found his body that Friday the 5th, in the Cape Fear River and identified him by the tattoo behind his right shoulder. The police suspected no foul play.

But Lucas tried to solve the more difficult things, like why on earth he didn't see it coming; what Ryan felt as he took that last ride on his blue Cannondale mountain bike. Ryan's last thought before he jumped off the North 6th Street Bridge.

But mostly: _why._

Lucas took a deep breath and felt the tears burning his eyes. "I just wanted to tell you guys that I'm here. Mrs. Scott is here. We're all here together," he said, echoing what he had told them weeks earlier in Principal Curtis' office. "We're all here together on the same team."

"I know you must all must be trying to answer why everything ended like this," Haley added, her voice shaking as well. Haley would never forget the way Principal Curtis entered her empty classroom, her face pale and barely being able to walk. "But…I don't think we'll ever know the answer. And it hurts. It hurts a lot; that's normal. But if that hurt, and that anger, and that pain becomes too much for you, come see me or your coach. We're all here together to help one another. You all don't have to bear the weight on your shoulders and face this alone."

Lucas briefly thought of Peyton and Ella, and it made him feel sick that their beautiful faces were slowly fading; and it was all his fault. Lucas looked up to see his ravens broken and devastated, drowning on dry land; it was up to him to pull them back to safety. "You guys know that Midnight Madness is coming up; you might not feel like celebrating, so Principal Curtis and I have agreed that if you guys don't feel up to it, we don't have to have it this year. We can cancel it and just play the game. Or, we can forfeit the first game of the season and give ourselves more time. I've left it completely up to you; you're the ones who got to play with Ryan on the court."

The boys looked at one another, and CJ cleared his throat and spoke up. "Well…we've been doing a lot of thinking ever since this happened. And we think…we think that we should go ahead with Midnight Madness and the season. It's what Ryan would've wanted. He wouldn't have wanted life to stop just because..." CJ choked up at the stunning reality of it all, "just because he isn't here anymore."

Lucas nodded; he had a feeling the boys would say that. It's what one of his other players said about Quentin Fields. The parallel was almost too much to take.

"For the first game," Javier piped up, at first avoiding eye contact. "We want to play with four. It doesn't feel right to fill Ryan's spot up so quickly; we still feel him around."

At that, the gym was quieter than ever: all its inhabitants looked around the majestic room, and if they shut their eyes and held their breath, they could hear Ryan bouncing his basketball or laughing at CJ's antics. They could hear his voice echoing off the walls, his form reappearing in the shadows, if one dared look.

"We can definitely do that," Lucas said. They always said how the toughest situations allowed one's character to shine through the most; how they handle adversity with such grace and bravery; just like Ella did with all those surgeries and the fact that she had to live with a disability for the rest of her life.

Haley smiled softly. Being in this gym, many called it "Ryan's gym," with these people, just felt like the right time…. "Do you guys want to go around and share some memories of Ryan?"

Another Raven, Ken, spoke up for all of them: "We've never had a dull moment with him."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Peyton waved a hand through her hair and let out a frustrated breath. She'd been punching her calculator for the last twenty minutes and it only reminded her of why she hated dong finances for the label so much. She'd left countless voicemails for her dutiful accountant and he had yet to return her calls. The office seemed so drab when she had to deal with numbers; where was the beautiful music to fill the silent space?

"Morning!" Chris sang, sauntering into Peyton's office.

Peyton scowled; she could see Chris' smug grin from a mile away. Ok. So maybe she would rather go back to punching numbers than have to deal with Chris Keller this morning. He dropped a coffee and a crumpled bag on her desk. "Geez. Rough night?" Chris asked. "You have bags under your eyes for days."

Peyton narrowed her eyes, but took the bag of croissants and coffee anyway. "Shut up," she answered, taking a sip of the piping hot coffee. She motioned to Chris' left hand. "What's with the bandages?"

"Your friend Haley splashed some hot coffee on me on purpose."

"What did you do?" Peyton exclaimed, her voice rising to a pretty high level that even Chris was alarmed; and he was used to women shouting at him by now.

"Why must it be assumed that I did something?" Chris asked, pretending to be offended. "I literally said 'hello'". After a beat, and noticing Peyton's blatant-I don't buy any of what's coming out of your mouth stare-, Chris smiled and leaned over Peyton's desk. "Well, I did say some other things-"

Peyton held up her hand to silence him. "OK…" she looked Chris over once and her brows furrowed. "Are you wearing the same clothes from yesterday?" ever since Peyton became a mother she was super observant about everything, to the last detail.

Chris grinned his signature grin and adjusted his glasses. "Maybe." He gestured behind his shoulder. "That Taryn you have working the bar…" Chris ended the comment with a suggestive whistle.

Peyton's eyes widened. "You've been here three days!" She swatted his forearm, hard. "You're…oh my God I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"Why? You jealous?"

"I'm married! You're lucky I've known you for so long, otherwise your ass would be out the door."

Chris only smiled, and Peyton tried to ignore the way his eyes sparkled through his glasses. She'd never noticed that before. "You wouldn't fire me."

"Don't test me; get in the booth. We're ridiculously behind schedule and you're on my last nerve."

"Whatever you say, Blondie." Chris turned on his heels into the booth, ready to show Peyton his latest work.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I made it through the first half of school in pretty good shape, but as soon as lunch ended, I started getting nauseous. I decided that tonight was the night I'd ask my mom about the miscarriage. Katie was free tonight, and I knew Aunt Brooke was going to stop by as she usually does every Thursday or Friday evening. This week, it was Thursday. I knew Mom would need her for support, even though she'd never admit it. Mom had a hard time asking people for help, I'd noticed. I do too. Maybe that's where I got it from. I wandered through the hallway to math class, silently counting down until it was time for Angela's class. Adrian and I had our work cut out for us; I stayed up late finishing up my half of the Power Point, and Adrian and I had to do a quick run through for Angela before we presented officially to the class. Angela was known to be notoriously nitpicky and demanding when it came to her Power Points.

But besides that, I was kind of, sort of, looking forward to seeing Adrian. He's always so positive all the time; it's a nice balance to my pessimism. That and he does this weird thing where he makes me feel better for a little while.

"Ella!"

I turn around to hear Adrian's voice float towards me. Today, he's wearing a plain, long sleeve red sweater and jeans. His bag rests on his shoulder, and he's wearing that same positive smile. "How's it going? You look like you were on a mission."

I laugh a little. What is it with this kid and making me laugh? He's not the only one who's commented how fast I walk on my crutches. I usually get, _you're pretty good on those,_ or, _you're about to break the speed limit_. As much as I love walking fast because it makes me feel capable for once, I increase my risk of falling at least twice as much. "Oh… not really; just math class. I'm trying to walk as slow as possible to waste time." See, since everybody knows I get ridiculously good grades, they are under the impression that I enjoy every aspect of school, ever. I try to disprove that as much as possible.

Things I hate: waking up for school, being in boring classes, ignorant people, learning pointless things, teachers who are wrong who think they are right, and most of all, the kids who think I worship at school's altar because they can't be bothered to learn the more important things about me. Or I won't let them learn. Either way, I still lose.

"I like math," Adrian supplied randomly. "How did the Power Point go?"

I find myself brushing my hair away from my face as I'm talking to Adrian. I never do that. I feel my hands slipping on the grips of my crutches and I'm praying that I don't fall in front of him. Once is once too many. "Ugh. Slowly. But hopefully Angela will like it."

"Fingers crossed. Hey, are you going to Midnight Madness on Friday?"

"That's this Friday?" My heart sank at the thought. Two days from now marks the first season without Ryan Hayes, the Ravens star player and my dad's protégé, and special ally. It's hard enough for me to walk by Ryan's locker, with it being covered in a makeshift memorial with cards, teddy bears and flowers, along with Ryan's girlfriend from time to time. I can't imagine how it must feel for my dad and his team to walk by it. Everyone is still in shock and floating around aimlessly, wishing for it not to be true, and trying to heal from this gaping hole that took Ryan's place. "Yeah, I guess I am." I don't know I'm going to handle seeing Ryan's mom and everyone who loved him in tears and drowning in sorrow, but I know Mom's going to make me go. I just know it.

I caught Adrian's smile. "Cool; I'm photographing the event for the school newspaper, so I have to be there."

"Oh, I didn't know you photograph."

Adrian turned to his side to show me he was carrying a smaller shoulder bag that held his Nikon. "Yeah; I've had some practice." He smiled softly at me again, and there was a beat of silence; it was soon broken.

"Ahem," Adrian and I turned to see Katie standing there with an annoying look on her face, and I can see that smirk of hers in plain view. "Hi."

"Hey!" I answer. I quickly smooth into introductions. "Adrian, this is my best friend Katie; Katie this is Adrian." I avoided saying phrases like _my friend Adrian_ because I wasn't sure what we were yet.

"Hi," Katie greets him politely, but I can see she's territorial. Katie is_ insanely _protective of me, and I am of her.

"Nice to meet you," Adrian returns. He turns to me. "Well, I should get going to class or I'm gonna be late. But I'll see you later?"

"Yeah; definitely."

Adrian grinned and his eyes sparkled again. They glowed kind of like embers in a fireplace, but more subtle. "Great." He walked backwards and waved a little wave to me, before turning and getting lost in the hallway crowd.

I turn to Katie and see her grinning like the Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland_. "What?" I feel a start of a blush coming on and I'm praying it away; Katie can read me like an open book.

"Um…" Katie gently leads me to her locker on the other side of the hallway; it's like she's worried Adrian will hear us even though he's already ways away. "_Who _was THAT?"

I roll my eyes and brush a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "…Adrian. "

"He's _cute."_ Katie directed her gaze down the hall at Adrian's retreating form. "And he's a photographer; so artsy and perfect for you."

"Huh?"

"Oh come on Ella; he likes you," Katie says plainly, with a gleam in her eye. Clearly she can barely contain herself.

"What?" I answer, and I can feel my cheeks heating up. "No he doesn't."

"Um. Yeah he does. First of all, he barely gave me the time of the day because he was too busy staring at you; second of all, he gave you _the nod._"

"What nod?"

"The 'let's hook up sometime' nod," Katie demonstrated with a wink, pulling my arm in the opposite direction.

"You're delusional."

"You're in denial," Katie shot back with an evil grin. She was enjoying herself way too much. I guess this is such a rare occurrence that she's over the moon for me. She narrowed her eyes at the way I let a small, shy smile slip out into the open, and she gasped. "Do you _like _him?" She didn't even let me answer before she started to jump up and down like an excited four-year-old. "You like him!"

"No," I answered immediately, hoping the butterflies in my stomach wouldn't give me away. Before; I was feeling my nauseous, but now my stomach was feeling funny for a totally different reason. "No."

"Yes you do."

"You're clearly enjoying this too much," I evade her question, hoping to shift the spotlight off of me. I never liked too much attention to be on me. That's why when I practice for piano recitals at home, I order my audience not to look directly at me, or I have my back to them. Oddly enough, I don't have a problem speaking in public if my remarks are rehearsed.

"I'm so happy," Katie confessed with a wonderfully innocent smile. "You like him, oh my _God_…" she was too busy doing a little victory dance only I knew about, before a door opened behind us and my father walked out of it. I quickly shoved Katie into silence and made her turn around. The last thing I needed was my father hearing any of that conversation. He'd probably have a coronary or something. He probably still sees me as his little girl. At least, I hope he does. "Hi Lucas," Katie greeted, always polite down to every bone in her body. The girl has perfect table manners.

"Hey," Lucas greeted back, watching how Katie tried to hide her smile and she brushed her hair out of her face. "What are you guys up to?"

"Well…I was just off to class so…gotta go!" I desperately tightened my grip on Katie's arm so she wouldn't leave me here, but she was too quick. Lately she's been dead set on getting my father and me to patch things up. She's got a soft spot for him I guess, since we grew up together, Katie remembers as well as I do who my father _really _is. Katie mouthed to me _six_, as in 6pm tonight, before turning and running to her next class.

"Ella," my father tried, and I slowly met his gaze. He seemed apprehensive, nervous, and out of place. So did I but I hid it better than he. "Are you O.K.?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine," I lie, adjusting my weight on my crutches. "I just…don't really feel well." Not a lie: my stomach began twisting again. The hours were slipping by and 6pm was quickly approaching. Maybe I'm way ahead of myself.

"What's wrong?"

"Stomachache."

"Do you want to sit in my office? Have some water?" I could tell Dad was hopeful I'd say yes, maybe so that he could really apologize for the whole car accident thing; or talk about what Mom and he spoke about, or give me an explanation as to why he didn't show up to dinner at Aunt Brooke's place the other night.

"Um…yeah, okay," I answer without thinking. I mentally flinch and I am instantly are regretting it. I'm going to gulp that water down and run off to class as quickly as I can. But then the other part of me, the graceful part, does not want to hurt my dad's feelings.

I see Dad let out a little smile and bless my heart it hurts a little. He opens his office door and motions for me to come inside, closing the door behind him. The office had changed considerably since I was little; Dad rearranged the furniture, got a new laptop, and repainted the walls a new color. He had a futon put in next to his mini fridge in case one of his players, or anyone really, wanted a moments respite from their crazy, melodramatic high school lives. Dad got bored, so he liked to change things up a lot. But a few things remained the same; the photographs on the walls…a few was when Dad was a Raven, some of him and Whitey, and all of his squads. But especially, there was a picture of Ryan Hayes on Dad's desk that was hard _not _to look at.

_-x-_

_ September 5__th__, 2026_

_ It was getting late and Peyton had been pacing her kitchen for the past fifteen minutes, an old blanket wrapped protectively around her shoulders. Lucas had called her at work and told her all about Ryan missing, and she sat talking to him in disbelief, and as soon as he hung up, she cried for an hour. Ella was nearly his age, and if everything ever happened to her baby girl she would be destroyed. If Ella ever went missing, Peyton wouldn't know what to do with herself. It would be over. It would simply be over. _

_ Peyton had turned off the television after she could no longer handle seeing Ryan's face on the news, and began pacing to calm her nervous heart. She'd never been more desperate to see her husband walk through their front door. _

_ When she finally saw him, Peyton was washed over in relief and she succumbed to the urge of holding on to her love and never letting go. "Hey," she breathed, walking quickly into his arms and hugging him tightly. She noticed how deeply Lucas was breathing, how his face was drained of color, and how his normally steady and strong arms were shaking furiously. Peyton pulled back to look into Luke's blue eyes, and something inside them told her all she needed to know. "No…" she breathed sadly, tears filling her eyes. _

_ "Ryan…." Lucas got out, his lips trembling. Peyton put a gentle hand on his cheek, and he grabbed her wrist for support. "He died!" Lucas cried, tears spilling onto his cheek and over Peyton's fingers. "He's dead, Peyton." _

_ Peyton wrapped Lucas in a hug and held onto him for dear life, crying along with him. "Oh Luke," she cried, rubbing his back. She kissed his neck, his cheek, anything to take this pain away. "Sweetheart…."_

_ "They found his body in the river," Lucas cried into Peyton's shoulder. _

_ Peyton felt sick. "Oh my God, did he…"_

_ "He killed himself." Lucas breathed out his tears, holding Peyton tight against his chest, before sobbing like a baby as Peyton had only seen twice before in her life with him: when Keith died and when Ella was born. _

_ "Honey I'm so sorry," Peyton cried. "I'm sorry." _

_ "I love you," Lucas swore. "I love you so much…" he said, leaking tears onto her tee shirt. He was so lucky that he could hold her, touch her, and feel her right now. _

_ "I love you too," Peyton returned without hesitation, kissing Luke's neck twice. "I love you more than anything."_

_ "Don't let go, baby," Lucas cried in her arms. "Don't let go."_

_-x-x-x-__**EGS**__-x-x-x-_

_ I couldn't handle much more from where I sat on the stairwell. The air around me evaporated into a transparent haze, and I ran upstairs before I could hear anymore. As soon as my mother ran into my father's arms, I left. I stumbled into my room and fell onto my bed, taking deep breaths. My gut knew what had happened to Ryan Hayes. He went missing and left a note behind. That only meant one thing. Without thinking, I pulled my laptop close to me, went to Google, and typed in _**"Ryan Hayes**_" and what immediately popped up was _**"Ryan Hayes missing, Tree Hill NC"**_ and loaded through the search engine. I clicked on the first link I saw, and the title of the article was enough for me to regret the whole thing. The headline read: _

**Body pulled from Cape Fear River**

_ I shut the laptop closed immediately and shut my eyes, vomit creeping up my throat. I prayed to keep it down. Why do I have to do this to myself? Fuck you, curiosity. Is it human nature to have some kind of addiction to tragedy? We prey on it like vultures. What's wrong with having a happy, normal life for once? I curled up in a ball on my bed and stared at the wall; no tears, no nothing. I tried calling Catherine or Katie, but neither of them was answering their phones. I shut my eyes and wished some genius had invented a time machine, so I could erase looking through the fucking Internet. But I knew it was no use. I would have found out eventually. _

_ There was a knock on the door that I almost didn't hear, and the door creaked open to reveal my mother on the other side. Her face was completely pale and she had to hold onto the door handle to steady herself before closing the door shut. She didn't say anything, so it was up to me to break the silence. But I knew. "Is it Ryan?" Mom said nothing, but I pressed on. "I know they found a body; was it him?" My voice was so unrecognizable it was almost detached from my throat, cold, scared as hell. My heart began pounding so hard in my chest I thought it would burst. _

_ Mom said nothing and only cried, before sitting on my bed and pulling me into his arms. I sat there and hugged back on automatic, breathing hard and slow. My body entered a transparent haze, where everything was hazy and blurry and I barely felt my mother holding me. I must have stared into space in silence for the longest fifteen minutes ever. _

_ "Shit," I breathed to myself. I felt myself hit a block, like I couldn't let tears fall even if somebody forced it out of me. Ryan was gone. He was just…gone. The air around me felt different, as if the universe recognized a loss and was acknowledging it. _

_ Mom was running her hand along my back, and pressing kisses into my hair, probably thanking God or whoever that she still had me. Ryan's mom couldn't say the same thing. Eventually, Mom pulled away and moved the hair from my eyes. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were puffy and red. "Are you OK?" _

_ "I don't know." _

_ "There was nothing we could do," Mom tried. "Ryan made his decision, baby." _

_ I said nothing. This was too much. "Dad?" _

_ "He's very, very sad," Mom admitted brokenly, "He's completely heartbroken. So we need to be there for him, and tell him we love him, and we need to help him, OK?" _

_ I felt a lump form in my throat and it hurt to swallow. "Okay." _

_ "I love you," Mom told me, kissing my forehead. I held onto her hand tightly. "Listen to me," she said softly, cradling my face in her hands. "Whatever you need, I'll never turn you away. OK? No matter what; you're my daughter and I'll never turn you away." _

_ I knew what she was really saying. I could never do that to her. My own reasons would not be enough to accept causing my mom that much pain, suffering, and blame. It would destroy her. I just couldn't do that to her. "I know," I tell her shakily. "I love you too, Mom." _

_-x-_

"Here you go," Dad placed a glass of water on his desk in front of me and it snapped me back to present day. I looked at him he seemed so fragile; I was overcome with this overwhelming need to give him a hug.

"Thanks," I tell him. I take a sip of the water and it does some to calm my nerves.

Dad nods and watches me drink the water for a moment; I have no clue what he's thinking. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for the whole thing with the car. I never meant to hurt you, and I feel terrible about it."

His honesty takes me by surprise. The room suddenly is a little too small and I'm a little too close for comfort. "It's ok," I tell him, when I realize my father's voice was shaking. Now that Mom knows, I just want to forget about it and move on. I take another gulp of water, a rather large one so the glass can drain quickly. "So…how come you couldn't make dinner at Aunt Brooke's house the other night?" I ask him, my stomach doing flips. It's ridiculous that I have to feel nervous asking my father a simple question, but I can't help it.

"Oh…I ran into something urgent at work," Dad decides. He's avoiding my gaze and begins to needlessly organize papers on his desk. I think he's lying, but I say nothing. "I wanted to go, though."

"Oh." _Yeah right. _This is probably the most awkward I've felt all day. "Are you…going to do Midnight Madness this year?"

Dad takes a deep breath before answering and I instantly regret asking that question. When are people, including myself, going to get rid of the eggshells? What happened was horrible, and people need to talk about it to prevent it from happening again.

"Yeah, I think we are."

I nod silently and wait a moment before finishing off the glass of water. I stand up and sling my backpack over my shoulders easily; it's not too heavy today. "I should get going. Thanks for the water."

Dad stands up to his feet quickly, almost like he wants me to stay, and I feel kind of bad. "You sure? You can stay for a little while longer, if you need to."

I avoid his gaze; it's too intense. "Uh…I shouldn't. I'm late to class already so…see you later," I finish lamely, cringing as I turn my back to him to grab my crutches against the wall.

"Bye." Dad answers softly almost like my cousin Olivia would.

I turn back to him wholly on impulse. "I'm really sorry about Ryan." I force it out of my throat.

Dad smiles sadly and clears his throat. It was almost like even mentioning Ryan put him on a complete block. "Yeah….I am too. Have a good day, all right? Be careful out there."

I nod before turning around to face the world outside Dad's office walls.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I'd never been more relieved to see Aunt Brooke walk through my front door that evening. Mom still wasn't home yet, Dad was probably at the shop, and I was finishing up some homework when Aunt Brooke rang the doorbell. "Hey Cookie!" she greeted, her nickname fondly bringing me back to the old days.

"Hi," I tell her through our hug. Today, she smells like the newest David Yurman. Classic Aunt Brooke: never went without her perfume, her favorite heels, and a nice bag to match. Except, when she visited Mom, she always carried a plastic bag either carrying beer or wine. Aunt Brooke slipped off her Manolos and joined me at the kitchen counter.

"So? How's is going, how's school?"

"It's good," I tell her. I decide not to tell her anything about Adrian yet, because something tells me she has other plans for our conversation.

"How about otherwise?" she asks gently.

"Oh..." so we're doing the deep conversation thing. Aunt Brooke is a smart gal; she knows when to get into it and when to keep things quiet. I think she thought that it would be good to do it now since we're alone. Well; she was right. I scratch my forehead lightly before moving on. "It's alright, I guess. I mean, it's a little weird with my parents and everything. My mom is worried about my dad."

"Of course; we all are," Aunt Brooke laments. "It's terrible to lose somebody like that, just awful. I can't imagine what the boy's mother must be going through right now. It breaks my heart."

I nod. "Yeah."

Aunt Brooke took a bite of the corn chips that I put in a bowl for her. She always said she needed something to "munch on," even though she'd regret it later. "That's why, if you're ever going through something, you need to tell your parents. Or me. Or anybody. You can't keep it bottled in before it gets too much to handle." She eyes me carefully until I meet her gaze. You see? Smart girl. "Seriously."

"Yeah I know."

"Good."

I look at Aunt Brooke subtly. I have no idea if she knows anything about my parent's issues, or my mom's miscarriage. My mother is notoriously private with her personal life; Aunt Brooke talks a bit more. According to my mom, she "talks too much" for her taste. Maybe that's why I try to ask Aunt Brooke heavy questions instead of Mom because I know she'll answer. Aunt Brooke has always told me the truth. "Aunt Brooke?"

"What?"

I don't even know where I'm going with this conversation. "I'm worried about my mom."

"Awe, why? She's fine, honey. Your mother is a very strong woman; don't worry about it."

"I know but…my dad is acting so weird."

"What's he doing?" I'm debating whether or not Aunt Brooke already knows and just wants to hear my side, or truthfully has no idea what's going on.

The conversation comes to an abrupt halt as Katie comes through the back door. She gives me a look and I subtly shake my head no. _No, my mom isn't home yet, and we're not going to do it yet_. "Hey Brooke!" Smooth recovery.

"Hey Katie! How are you?"

Katie, Aunt Brooke and I sat around the counter munching on the chips and my stomach was really bad at this point. I pushed the chips away and cleared my throat, but it went unnoticed. Thank God Aunt Brooke is here. Thank God Katie is here.

Mom walked through the door at 6:15p, and I let her greet all of us, settle in…actually I kept chickening out. It wasn't until the table was cleared of dinner plates that I gave Katie our "signal" look. She understood right away and sat next to me on one side of the table, Aunt Brooke at the corner, and Mom standing by the fridge, putting away Dad's leftovers. My knee started shaking and Katie put her hand there to steady it. "Peyton?" Katie called bravely. "Can you come here for a second?"

"Sure," Mom wipes down the counter one last time and sits across from us at the table, _thankfully_ next to Aunt Brooke. "What's up?"

Katie looks at me, encouraging me to go on. _You can do it_, her eyes screamed.

"Mom," I start, my voice trembling. I mentally command for my knees to stay steady, but of course they won't listen. They listen to my CP instead. "Can I ask you something?"

Mom's eyes fill in concern and she's visibly alarmed. "What?"

With shaking fingers, I pull out the picture of the sonogram out of my pocket and slide it across the table. "What is that?" I ask her steadily, afraid to look her in the eye because I might start crying. I'm holding onto Katie's hand so hard I'm probably hurting her. But she stays quiet.

Mom's breath hitches in her throat, her eyes immediately fill in tears and I instantly regret doing this. I feel like I'm ambushing her, and it isn't fair. "Where did you get this?" she asks quietly, quickly glancing to Aunt Brooke, who's at a loss for words. I've actually rendered her speechless.

"What is it?" I ask instead, trying to keep it together. "Were you pregnant?" my voice breaks into pieces and I feel a salty tear slide down my cheek.

More tears fall when I see my mother nod her head yes.

_-x-_

_ July 18__th__, 2026_

_ Peyton clambered out of bed in the late afternoon. She hadn't been feeling well since last night after they'd sang Ella Happy Birthday. So she went to bed early…she couldn't believe her baby girl was 14. She was so mature for her age she acted like an 18 year-old most of the time. Ella still didn't know about Peyton's pregnancy yet. Her and Lucas decided to wait until the threat of miscarriage was over before telling anybody. _

_ Peyton dragged her feet and her head felt heavy, and she was freezing. She wrapped Luke's jacket closer around herself and practically stumbled into the hallway. She saw Lucas make his way up the stairs and already she felt a little better at the way he smiled at her. "Hi," she greeted in a miserly way, her voice hoarse and weak. _

_ "Hey," he greeted, pouting when he saw her not feeling well. "How are you feeling?" Lucas sweetly put his palm on Peyton's lower back and she instantly felt a cold chill. Lucas drew her into his chest to keep her warm, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. He was so good to her. He gently pressed his hand to her forehead and felt she was burning. "Oh babe. You've got a fever." He kissed her forehead to somehow make it go away. He placed a gentle hand on Peyton's belly. "Our second is not making it easy for you, huh? Want me to make you soup?"_

_ Peyton nodded like a small child and Lucas chuckled. She was so cute when she was sick. "I'll be back," she said, before breaking from her husband's warm embrace and heading to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, splashed cold water on her face, and put the toilet seat down (which Lucas almost always forgot to do). Suddenly, she felt something wet between her legs. Her heartbeat grew erratic and she began to panic. "No…" she exclaimed to herself, hot tears leaving her eyes. It couldn't be. Not again. She was overcome in fear for her unborn baby. She quickly pulled down her grey sweatpants and panties, and all she saw was blood. She let out a desperate shout, and suddenly her knees gave out underneath her, and she fell to the bathroom floor. "LUCAS!" she screamed, a mixture of terror, pain, and tears. _

_ Lucas was already halfway up the stairs when he heard a loud bang, but Peyton's scream brought him to a full sprint. He bounded through the door and probably could've knocked it down, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Peyton lay curled up on the cold floor, her face caked in sweat and tears. Her pants and underwear were pulled around her ankles, and blood leaked down her legs. "Jesus," Lucas breathed, hurriedly kneeling to the floor beside his wife. Blood stained his jeans, but Luke took Peyton into his arms and she gripped his shirt hard. "Sweetheart," Lucas breathed shakily._

_ "Lucas, what's happening?" Peyton wailed, gripping to his shirt and crying. "Lucas," she cried. "What's going on?" _

_ Lucas saw Peyton blink her eyes closed twice and Lucas quickly wiped a damp cloth over her face. "I don't know," he answered. "Peyton, baby stay with me," he pleaded. "Stay awake!" Lucas quickly dialed 911 and held his phone to his ear, and all he could see was blood. _

_-x-_

My hands are shaking and I wipe my cheeks furiously. I was right. Mom was pregnant and lost the baby. "You're not pregnant anymore?"

Aunt Brooke had covered her lips with her palm and shut her eyes, and Katie was doing the same, bowing her head and holding my hand.

"No." Mom answered in tears. She wiped her eyes and felt Aunt Brooke grab her hand. The table separated us, and Mom had never been so for away, even though I could see the heartbroken look on her face, and her best friend holding back tears.

"Oh." was my answer, and I tried to hide my tears. That means she was pregnant at Graduation; no wonder she looked so happy. My heart hurt because she must've hurt so much, and it was way over my head; but here I am broaching the subject anyway. Mom quickly got up, and the table separated us no more as she brought me into her arms, and I sank into her embrace and cried. "Sorry," was what I said with my head buried in her chest. I took a deep breathe and said, "I feel like this happened because of me!"

Mom pulled back and brushed the hair from my face. "What?" she probably couldn't understand me because I was crying so hard.

"This happened 'cause of me," I cried harder. "If I didn't have CP, this wouldn't have happened."

"Oh my baby," Mom lamented, stroking my hair. "Listen to me," she said, wiping my tears away with her hands while hers fell. "This is **not** your fault. I don't want to hear you say that. You're going to break my heart!" Instead I cried some more and Mom rocked me back and forth on the kitchen floor. "This is not your fault, Ella," Mom told me, her voice hoarse. "I was at risk for miscarrying because I had a premature pregnancy with you. I knew that. But that has nothing to do with _you_. You caused _nothing_. You didn't give yourself CP, did you?" she asked lightly, stroking my chin and smiling a little when she saw me do the same.

"You didn't give it to me either," I assured her, and it made her cry. I suspected she knew that already; but I wasn't sure. She kissed my cheek and I hugged her hard. "Love you, Mama," I whispered, tears falling onto her shoulder.

"I love you too baby girl," Mom whispered, rubbing my back. "I'm sorry you had to find out like that. I love you so much."

When I looked up from her embrace, the room was empty. Aunt Brooke had led Katie quietly out of the room. It was just my mom and I.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_I was originally gong to put Midnight Madness in this chapter as well, but it was just going to be way too long. So that's next time. I know this chapter was unbelievably sad, but I felt this is how the story needed to go. Do you think this in any way justifies Luke's behavior? Sound off in the comments. _

_Next chapter, Adrian takes Ella out for breakfast after a rough night :) _


	7. Chapter 6

_My New Years Eve Resolution was to write more. This is the result! Yay! Special shout outs to _**BecauseYourMine** f_or giving me wonderful advice on how to proceed with this story._

**Cayt326,** _I did my best to bring on the happy for you. I hope you like it. I know that the tone of the story is a lot darker than that of LIB, but bear with me. Things will get better soon. Life is beautiful even with all its hardships, remember? :) _

_**Pauguina, **your reviews always rock. Also, huge thank you to **Othello** for your great insight my friend. Glad you are enjoying my work. _

_Another thing, real quick: I've just started a new story that I'm SUPER excited about. It's called_ Invictus, around season five of the show. Peyton has to take care of her 16-year-old first cousin who comes to live with her. A few have asked if Lucas will be in the story and the answer is a very resonant **YES**! Yes, he will be in the story so please don't worry! I hope you'll check it out and let me know what you think.

_Chapter Six_

_October 5__th__, 2026_

It was nearly midnight. Lucas cleared his throat and adjusted his dark navy blue tie. In just a few moments, he would follow his team out into their gym, where all the lights were dimmed and almost everybody, standing and seated, held a candle in memory of Ryan Hayes. It was the boys' idea to use Midnight Madness as an opportunity to honor Ryan. A month after his death, it seemed like the ideal time for the school to come together as a community once again. Lucas had just given his team new black jerseys with the patch, _RH 08_ sewn on right above their hearts, so they could carry their fellow raven wherever they would go. They held their own moment of silence, before each raven left the locker room with a respectful pat to Ryan's untouched locker, his last name written on a piece of tape. Soon Lucas was the only one who remained in the locker room, and he was absolutely terrified of facing those outside the doors.

"Hey." Haley said gently, as she stood with her ankles crossed. She wore a light green dress, a white cardigan, and white heels. "You ready, Coach?"

Lucas took a breath and noticed his hands were sweating. He moved them about before Haley grabbed one hand for support. "Yeah. Hey, do you know if…have you seen Peyton and Ella out there?"

Haley smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah; I saw them. They're sitting separately, but I saw them." She watched Lucas visibly calm down and shove his sweaty hands into his pockets. The two adults heard the music in the gym fade to silence. "I think that's our cue." Haley opened the locker room doors and she and Lucas walked to the gym in silence. The lights were turned off, and every single person sitting in the bleachers held a lit candle in memory of the fallen raven. A single spotlight shown in the middle of the gym at half court, where a microphone stood on its stand. Lucas took a deep breath and it seemed like his footsteps was the only noise in the silent space.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I was supposed to sit next to Katie for Midnight Madness but we got separated in the crowd. I sat on the first bleacher and was handed a little candle that was already lit. It was hot but I held it anyway. Here's hoping this thing won't last too long. A half an hour after I arrived, the gym was full to the brim, and suddenly, the lights went out. The candles provided a saintly glow. The AV team had set up a projector on the far wall, the same one where all those framed jerseys hang. The projector's been playing a slideshow of Ryan as a raven, and the crowd clapped thunderously when they saw a snapshot of Ryan doing a slam dunk, one person even yelling, _We love you Ryan, _a few of the team, and a one or two of Dad and Ryan in a photograph together. I feel a twinge of jealousy in my stomach and I try to ignore it. I don't have a right to feel jealous; the kid killed himself for God's sake.

The crowd's murmur was instantly silenced when my dad walked into the spotlight, fixing his tie and clearing his throat. He looks so nervous. I can't watch. My eyes dart to the very corner of the first bleacher, where I recognize Ryan's mom, sitting and wearing a red and black dress like she did at Ryan's funeral. She's surrounded by another woman and Ryan's girlfriend. They're all holding hands, while the other holds a candle. All of a sudden I see bursts of camera flash, and only one person came into my mind.

Adrian.

I look closer and I see him posed by center court, with another person following him around and holding a light over the camera. I can't see Adrian's face but he's snapping pictures furiously, weaving in and out like a ghost. He looks so professional.

"Thank you all for coming," Dad's voice breaks into the microphone and can be heard in every corner of the gym. I notice him dart his attention to Ryan's slideshow, but he can only look for so long. "Welcome to, Midnight Madness, and the start of a new season." Normally, at any other time, thunderous applaud followed this introduction, but not today. I've never seen people between the ages of 14-18 stay so damn quiet all at once. It's amazing. It's deserved. There was a pause as my dad tried to figure out what to say next. I hear him clear his throat and shake his head . "I feel like I've done this one too many times." I know he's talking about Andre's big brother Q. It's weird to think that Jamie was around for that. "But our common loss brings us together tonight. I think that's how Ryan would have wanted it: not to be banded together in sorrow, but be joined in remembering all the beautiful things about him. So we commemorate our friend Ryan; our friend, brother, teammate, and loved one…for all of time." Dad paused and took a breath. "I want to invite Ryan's family up here for a moment."

Almost everyone in the gym turned their attention to Ryan's loved ones. His mother bravely got up, walking steadily and holding her daughter's hand tightly. Another couple, Ryan's girlfriend, and another kid about Ryan's age joined her. I thought I recognized him. They looked like they had no idea why they were standing up there; my dad probably made it a surprise. Oh God there's going to be tears aren't there?

"What's he doing?" I turn to Sheff. I'm laughing to myself too. You'd think because I'm Coach's daughter, I would know. But I have no clue.

Sheff shrugged and I could see his face by candlelight. "Oh wait, I know. Coach is going to give them Ryan's jersey." Sheff motioned up ahead to where somebody had wheeled up a display veiled by a blue cloth into the spotlight beside my dad.

"No raven will ever wear the number 8 again," my father declared in certainty. Good to know he's still in there somewhere. "For the rest of time, Ryan will be here with us, in every winning shot. No one can take his place on this team. We miss him everyday; but we carry him in our hearts." He motioned gently for Ryan's mom to lift off the cloth. She and her daughter took one end of the cloth, while the other couple and the boy took the other end. They lifted the cloth in one gallant sweep to reveal Ryan's jersey behind a glass case, with a plaque underneath it that read: _Ryan Velez Hayes_, _Rest in Peace_. This time, the audience burst into thunderous applause. The Ravens stood on their feet. Adrian's camera released bursts of flash as he weaved in and out of the shadows. I watched as he respectfully kept his distance as Ryan's mom started crying, and her family enveloped her in a crushing hug, and then they hugged or shook Dad's hand next. Suddenly the lights in the gym went on and people instinctively blew out their candles. Ryan's slideshow ended, and then everyone remembered the _other _reason why they were all there: it was a new season.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Guys, bring it in!" Lucas announced, and he looked around his huddle. God, it hurt like hell not to see Ryan there. Lucas quelled the pain in his chest and tried to focus. The guys needed him. "We're gonna go CJ, Shawn, Ian and Damon. Four, right?" His team nodded. Lucas put his hand in the middle of the huddle. "Remember what I told you: this isn't about winning. This is about healing. Alright, this is for Ryan." He ignored the shutter of a Nikon camera nearby. "08 on 3. 1, 2, 3…08!" The boys dispersed to warm up and the referee walked over.

"Coach! I can't let you play with four unless your players are hurt."

Lucas met the ref dead in the eye. "All my players are hurting."

A brief sense of recognition entered the ref's eyes. He nodded, almost like he was ashamed for pressing the issue when he knew the circumstances. On the scale of things, did something that trivial really matter? "Let's play ball."

The game was not too far in and Lucas was already on his heels. His players were struggling to make up for their missing fifth, and were scattered and lost; as expected. "CJ, keep it going!" Luke yelled over to the court, clipboard in hand. The least he could do was keep morale up, motivate them a little. He knew this first game was going to be really tough, but they had to somehow pull it together for the season. That's what Ryan would have wanted. "Box him up!" Lucas watched as the wildcat took advantage of CJ's mistake and scored.

CJ yelled out in frustration and kicked the open air. He looked to the empty space on the court where Ryan would have been cheering him on.

The ravens were barely hanging on by half time, and they straggled to the locker room, sullen and defeated.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

By half time, the Ravens were losing by 12. I got up to stretch my legs, and because the atmosphere was so painful I couldn't handle it anymore. I was hoping I could touch base with Katie since I'm supposed to sleep over at her place tonight, but she was sitting with people I didn't recognize, so I avoided going over there. I also avoided going to say hi to my mom. Things still felt pretty awkward; our confrontation two days ago was so intense. I'm just not ready for too much too soon.

So I walked around aimlessly until I reached the Ravens locker room. Curiosity winning out (remember the morbid curiosity I talked about? Well, here it is again) I stood by the entrance to the locker room, held my breath, and listened. I think most of all, I'm eager to see what my dad is like when he's not at home with us. Something had to be different. His team obviously sees him in a different light than I do, and I want to know why; specifically why. What is it, and whatever it is why can't it be that way at home? Like my father said, we all suffered a common loss. But of course, nobody is acting in a common way. That's the thing about grief: it's big and dark like the ocean, and it can overtake us like the toughest tidal wave; it can trap us and suffocate us until we can't see sunlight anymore. It impacts any person it touches differently; whether they were heavily involved or, not involved much at all.

I covertly watch as the team slides into the locker room, my father waiting at the front. I hear CJ bickering with another teammate.

"Look all I'm sayin' is you gotta watch me more." CJ insisted, waving his hands around. "When I signal for you to move to the left block, you move to the fuckin' left block! Jesus Christ." He slammed his towel onto the bench.

"Chill out, CJ." another raven tried, but CJ was having none of it.

"Don't tell me to chill out, alright?" CJ threatened in a much more serious tone, taking a defensive stance and squaring his massive shoulders.

"Whoa, whoa. Everybody take a seat." My father commanded, and everybody followed his request. Yep, definitely a fire still there somewhere. "This is exactly what's not supposed to be happening right now; everything is fractured-"

"'Cause we are."

"Speak up CJ." My father said, words slipping out of his mouth like dry ice. The tension filled the room out of nowhere, like steam hissing over a lake.

"It's because we are fractured!" CJ yelled, and the room was instantly silenced. "Ryan is gone. My best friend is dead." CJ took a deep breath, and I could almost hear his heart pounding from here. "This is just fucked up, man." he began rambling, his emotions taking over. "This is fucked up. I can't do this. I can't…I can't…" he whispered, his knees shaking. He got up from his seat on the bench and started walking to the door, towards where I was standing.

"CJ! CJ, where are you going?" Dad asked, before two other ravens blocked CJ's path. CJ turned around as if lost and disoriented, knowing it wouldn't be worth it to fight his teammates. He sat down again.

"Coach, I can't." CJ pleaded. "I just can't play."

Dad nodded patiently. "Do you want to go home?"

CJ shrugged and just like that, dissolved into tears. "No." he mumbled into his hands, before violently stomping his feet on the ground, as if mentally commanding his body to stop, just _stop_ showing grief. Just _stop_. "I don't know. I miss him so much it hurts." CJ admitted through his tears, before the raven sitting next to him patted him on the back.

Nobody said a word, until…

"It's OK, CJ." another raven encouraged gently, and the others agreed, watching him break down.

"He's the only guy I've ever cried over." CJ admitted, crying. "What could have been so bad?"

I looked immediately to my father to see what he would do. He watched CJ for a moment before walking over to him and sitting next to him on the bench. Dad put his hand on CJ's shoulder, before CJ leaned into my father's embrace and they hugged.

"You got this CJ." another raven encouraged; I think his name was Ken.

"I know this is hard guys. I'm really proud of you for pulling this far. I couldn't of done what you're doing at 17. So now the question is, do you want to keep going? We can forfeit the game right here and call it a night; not a problem at all." Dad looked around the gym and nobody answered.

"No forfeiting." CJ decided, wiping away at his tears. "Coach, just sit me on the bench. But we can't forfeit the game. Ravens don't forfeit."

-x-x-x-EGS-x-x-x-

I left before I could hear anymore, with a million and one thoughts racing through my head. CJ had said that Ravens don't forfeit, but didn't Ryan? Didn't he? Put his hands up and say, _I'm done. _Of course, I can't answer that question. How could I possibly?

So, I'm left thinking this: why the hell isn't my dad like that all the time? I know he has in him, obviously. When's the last time he hugged me? Offered me words of encouragement? When's the last time he said _I'm proud of you?_ Why is it that every time I run into him, he has split personality? With us, he's sullen and withdrawn yet with his fucking team he's the voice of reason, who gives out free fucking hugs. Why doesn't he give one of those to my mother?

My overwhelming anger gives me the adrenaline to push faster down the quiet hallway; my crutches cracking under my weight as they try to keep up. _Crack, crack._ God, I hate that sound. I hate it. Just as I'd suspected, my rapid thoughts distract me and I nearly fall to the ground.

_The hallway's empty. No one will see you. _

My upper body moves faster than my feet, so I trip over them. On automatic, my arms go out in front of me and slam the crutches to the ground in an effort to keep me upright. My arms push off and I end up skipping a step, like a jump, but I land and save myself. My heart is pounding, but I grab onto the wall nearby and lean against it.

Just to catch my breath.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

The ravens lost the game by six points. Just six. When the team left their locker room, uniforms abandoned, the whole gym stood up and applauded, even the opposing team. I slipped out before the crowd could, making my way to my locker to grab my bag and jacket. The hallways were quiet and almost peaceful. I thought I was alone with my thoughts until I heard a familiar voice from behind me.

"Hey, fruitcake."

Only one person calls me that. I whip my head around to see Jamie walking towards me from the shadows. "Hey!" I tell him, and for the first time tonight my smile is genuine.

"What's up?" Jamie asked with a grin, before bringing me in for a quick hug. "I missed you."

"I missed you too!" I look at him for a second. It's the beginning of October. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on Fall Break, so I'm home for a little bit. How've you been?" The lights are dim but I can see Jamie is concerned. He knows; of course he knows. My family knows everything about each other, I'm pretty sure.

"Good." I answer vaguely. The school hallway was not the proper setting for a real conversation. "Usual stuff, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I gesture to my open locker. "Can you help me with this? I can't carry it."

"Sure." Jamie answers dutifully, making a face of pain when he feels how heavy my backpack is. "Shit. Why the fuck is this so heavy?"

"I have no idea." I start emptying stuff out of it, wishing I could just burn it all.

"Lucy! Lucy!" Jamie and I turn when we see a boy walk quickly towards us. He looks distressed. "Hey guys, sorry…have you seen a little kid by any chance, about yay high," he gestures to his waist. "She's got brown hair and gets really…excited."

I stare at him for a second. He's related to Ryan. He's the boy that walked up to unveil the jersey. "No, sorry…" I answer truthfully, and I feel bad. How many more missing kids can this family take?

"Do you want us to help you look for her?" Jamie offered before I could.

"Um….I mean….shit, my aunt's going to fucking kill me."

"Trevor!" A little girl's voice carries down the hallway and the kid named Trevor turns around gratefully. We all just stare when we see the little girl is carrying huge pliers.

"Lucy! You scared the hell out of me. Why did you run off all by yourself? And what are you doing with those?"

I finally remember who this kid is. He's Ryan's cousin, and he gave a beautiful eulogy at Ryan's funeral mass. But the eulogy he gave is not my most vivid memory of him.

_-x-_

_Ryan's funeral was my first. Mom started tearing up before we even got there, Dad wasn't saying anything, and when we walked into the funeral home for the wake and viewing, it was packed. What was scary was that the people crying and mourning were just a few years older than me. I mostly stayed on the edge of the room that housed Ryan's closed casket (thank God), because I couldn't handle going any closer. The closest I got was sitting on a seat to the side. Ryan's family was up front by the casket, which was covered in flowers and a beautiful framed photograph of Ryan taken weeks before he died. He looked happy; this doesn't make sense. _

_I tried to tune out all the tears and grief, when I saw there was another room that was playing a photo slideshow of Ryan, along with three or four massive photo collages that I assume his closest friends put together. I'm spotting a few Ravens in the crowd but I purposefully pay no attention. A little girl, wearing a black and white dress with Mary Jane shoes, hair put back with a clip, was staring at the slideshow in tears. _

_A boy, dressed in a suit and about Ryan's age, walked over to the little girl and crouched by where she sat. "Lucy," he tried gently, warmth in his piercing blue eyes. "Are you OK?" _

"_No." she answered, her lips trembling as another tear fell. It just about broke my heart. I can't be here. She's just a little baby, and she lost her brother. _

_The boy wiped her tears with his thumb. "Come on, kid. You want to sing a song with me?" he whispered. _

_She shrugged. _

"_Let's sing a song." The boy paused, heard the music playing in the funeral home off Ryan's IPod, smiled at the irony of it all, and began to sing softly. And sue me, but he had a lovely voice._

Don't worry about a thing

Cause every little thing….

_The boy paused in faith that Lucy would start singing along with him. She did; in a meek voice, she did. _

Singin'….don't worry about a thing

Cause every little thing is gonna be alright!

_-x-_

"That's Ryan's locker." Lucy pointed. "Mom wants me to clip the lock, she said. She gave me these to clean out his stuff."

Jamie motioned for me to pay no attention, and I tried my best. But I bet you he was listening, too.

Trevor sighed. "Ok, well, let me do it then." At that moment, a woman, also Ryan's family because she helped unveil the jersey, walked quickly down the hallway.

"What're you guys doing?"

"Titi! Mom wanted me to clip the lock off of Ryan's locker so we could empty it. Can I do it?"

Another memory struck me; Ryan had Latin roots! _Titi_ is slang for _Tía, _which means 'aunt' in Spanish. That's where his Spanish middle name came from.

Trevor and his mother said no at the same time. "Are you sure, honey?"

"Yes!" Lucy huffed irritably, bouncing on her toes. "Mom said."

"I'll do it." Trevor took the pliers from Lucy, before walking over to Ryan's locker, still covered in cards and candles and pictures. He took a deep breath that even I could hear, and snapped the lock. It fell to the floor and the bang resonated through the empty hallway. I flinched. We all did.

Trevor began gently emptying out Ryan's things, which included mostly schoolbooks, some pictures…. his body was blocking my view. I made sure to continue emptying out my backpack while Jamie was glaring at me, his eyes screaming _hurry the fuck up! _I ignored him. If we spoke, the family would hear.

I heard Trevor chuckling to himself, before turning to his mom with something in his hand.

"What?"

"Nothing…uhm…" Trevor chuckled. I can bet you he's thinking of a happy Ryan memory.

Trevor's mom watched him suspiciously, before he discretely opened his palm. "Is that…. is that pot?" she asked, a little too loudly. She didn't sound angry, just incredulous at a "mom" level. You know, the kind where you're oblivious to your kid's (or nephew's) mischief. "Oh God. Put that away! Lets empty this and get outta here."

"What's pot?" Lucy asked innocently, standing on her toes to see the mysterious plastic bag.

"A drug."

"Trevor!" his mother seethed, and I had to hold back my laughter; so did Jamie. See, told ya he was listening.

"What? Don't ever do it, Lucy."

"My _brother_ did drugs?" Lucy asked, crossing her arms. Hah! A little attitude is going on there. I love it.

"Well…he smoked pot sometimes. It's a little different than doing hard drugs. It's not necessarily as bad as some really harmful ones."

"_Dios mio_," Trevor's mom exclaims. 'My God!' in Spanish. "_Cállate!" _ More Spanish, 'shut up'. I'm getting a refresher lesson here. I watch inconspicuously as the woman playfully hit Trevor on the forearm, a smile gracing her lips. I can tell this is their usual dynamic. Finally: some normalcy around here. "What's wrong with you!"

"Shut up about what?" Sandra Hayes came walking slowly down the hallway towards the family. She wore a tired expression on her face. She met eyes with me only briefly, and I could tell she knew who I was. I froze thinking she was going to try talking to me. I hurried up with the backpack; damn thing. "What are you guys doing?"

Trevor quickly shoved the bag of weed into his pocket. "Just…cleaning it out. Like you said." It looked like he was expecting his aunt to break down.

"Right." Sandra agreed. "I want to keep all of that." She turned to her sister. "Do you think I should, now?"

"If you want…."

"Do what?" Lucy asked, holding her mother's hand.

Sandra took a breath. "Well…I was thinking I'd talk to Lucas for a little bit. But… I have no idea what to say." She directed that last part to her sister, looking at her pleadingly.

"Say whatever is in your heart."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas breathed in the fresh air as he walked to the parking lot. He'd successfully gotten through Midnight Madness. But that was just one game. Just one damn game and his team was cracking at the seams. Lucas had no idea how to handle Ryan being gone, how life could just shift so dramatically in a matter of days. How the hell could anything be the same for the Ravens, and for Ryan's family? The guilt hit Lucas harder than ever and he was surprised he could make it across to his car. Haley was right: Ella and Peyton were there. He'd wanted to catch up with them after, but he lost them in the crowd and had no idea where they went off to. Luke could try calling them, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't bother answering the phone.

When the crowd thinned, Luke's stride slowed when he saw almost everyone he loved dearly waiting for him. Well, almost everyone. A few people were missing. Haley, Matthew, Jude, Andrew and Peyton stood by Luke's mustang, gentle gazes on their faces. But Lucas could only focus on one person through the entire blur. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her.

"Hey." Peyton said, the light gracing her face perfectly. She smiled at him softly, and Lucas returned it. Of course she'd be here waiting.

"We're proud of you, Coach." Haley supplied, her arms wrapped around Matthew's shoulders.

"Good job, Uncle Luke!" Andrew, Jude, and Matthew chorused with award winning grins.

Lucas smiled just a little bit and Peyton's heart fluttered at seeing it._ That _was the Luke she fell in love with. "You guys didn't have to wait for me!"

Haley reached into her purse when she heard her cell go off, reading a text from Nathan. He stayed home to watch Olivia, and also because he was afraid there would be too much attention on him as a basketball star when it was about the team. "We should get going, guys. Apparently Olivia is not feeling well and is pretty fussy."

"OK." The boys answered, sad to leave so soon but still happy that they got to have a sleepover.

"Where's Ella?" Lucas asked Peyton.

"She's supposed to be spending the night at Katie's house; I think she left already." Peyton felt chills rise on her arms at the thought of Lucas and her being home in the house…until she told herself he would probably just lock himself up in his office and she'd be alone, again.

"Oh, okay." Lucas answered, a little sad that the three of them couldn't go home together. He considered going straight to the shop afterwards, but decided not to. He wanted to talk to Peyton. He patted his suit jacket, and the envelope wasn't in his pocket where he thought he left it. "Shoot. I left something in the office. I have to run back and get it."

"I'll wait with you, Peyton." Haley assured her, after telling the boys to get in her car parked a few spaces away in eye's view.

Lucas turned and sprinted back into the high school, not taking any chances. His body shivered at the memories of the last time he'd left Peyton in a parking lot. Once he reached inside the doors, he slowed to a fast walk. The hallways were quiet and he heard his urgent footsteps echo through the walls. His body stiffened when he neared his office and saw Sandra Hayes and her family waiting for him.

-x-x-x**-EGS**-x-x-x-

As soon as I heard Sandra say my father's name my fingers quickened. Oh hell no. I am getting the _fuck_ out of here.

"Ella, hurry up!" Jamie whispered, agitated beyond belief. "Jesus."

I don't want to admit to Jamie that I stayed to hear the Ryan's family's rapport on purpose. _What do they have that we don't? _"You know what?" I shoved my backpack into his hands roughly. "Go. I move slower than you. Just go and get out."

Jamie stood there. He and I acted like brother and sister, so my behavior didn't faze him in the least. He was known to push back, too. "No. Our family's waiting for us."

I bring my voice to a low whisper. "I'm not going home with you guys. I'm leaving with Katie."

"Who's Katie?"

"My best friend!" I tell him, my agitation getting worse by the passing second. I don't have time for this. I briefly wonder why Katie hasn't called or texted me wondering where I am. "She's texted me, wondering where I am." I lied. "Seriously, just go. I'm not a baby anymore. I can handle walking to the fucking parking lot by myself."

"What's wrong with you?"

I'm used to hearing that question after people see me walk across a room. "Nothing." I counter coldly. "What's wrong with you?"

Jamie huffs a breath of air, rolls his eyes and turns around to head out. "Whatever."

I watch him leave. Oh well. At least he has the backpack.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Hey Coach." Sandra Hayes greets mildly, trying to stand tall in her classy black and red dress. Lucas silently wondered how often he was going to see her wearing black now.

"Sandra." Lucas said, clearing his throat. "Hi." He slowly reached in to give her a hug, and she returned it but only briefly. She felt stiff against Luke's chest, unlike the other times where she embraced him and was warm and friendly.

Sandra gestured to her family behind her, who stood shoulder to shoulder. "You remember my sister Cristina, my nephew Trevor and my baby, Lucy."

"Of course." Lucas shook hands with both adults and waved to little Lucy.

"My husband couldn't come. It's too hard for him." Sandra's voice broke at that last part, her lips quivering and her eyes filling in tears. Cristina put a supportive hand on her back. "I just wanted to say….thank you for everything, for tonight, and…for everything you've ever done for Ryan. You helped him…so much." Tears began to fall from her brown eyes. "He looked up to you. You were so much more than just a basketball coach." Sandra covered her lips with her palm and wiped her eyes. She took Lucas' hands and they felt clammy against his warm ones. "So…don't….don't feel bad. And tell the team not to feel bad because Ryan loved them _all_." Sandra continued with conviction through her devastation. "My family are the ones carrying me through this. Lucy saved my life." Sandra's voice broke again, more tears fell but she kept going, as long as her family stood behind her. "I saw your daughter here before; she's beautiful."

Lucas nodded, his throat closing up. He felt the tears taking him over. "Thank you." One look into Sandra's heartbroken eyes and Luke knew what she was really saying. _Don't take them for granted._ He reached in to give Sandra a kiss on the cheek, and she held onto him for a little longer than she did the first time. She avoided looking him the eyes because it reminded her….she turned around rapidly and left on unsteady legs. Her family gave courteous glances and pats to Lucas before following Sandra out of the school.

Lucas was left to wipe the tears from his eyes alone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Peyton and Haley stood waiting shoulder to shoulder, leaning against Luke's mustang. At first it was comfortable silence, but then Haley couldn't take it anymore. "These past few days have been really hard for Lucas." She tried to make herself heard over the impending wind. Haley hoped she chose the right words.

"I know." Peyton nodded, tears in her eyes. She shrugged sadly and it broke Haley's heart. "I miss him."

Haley sighed and put a comforting hand on Peyton's back. "He's gonna come around, honey. I know he will." She sweetly put a strand of Peyton's hair behind her ear. "Everything's gonna be alright." She watched as Peyton nodded stiffly to avoid tears. Haley saw her son emerge from the school carrying a book bag. It brought her back to when he was in high school not too long ago. "Oh good, there's Jamie."

Jamie greeted both his aunt and mother with a kiss on the cheek.

"Did Ella get picked up?"

"Yeah! Yeah she did."

Peyton saw Haley get another text from Nathan. "Haley, you don't have to wait with me. Don't worry about it. Your baby needs you."

Haley sighed. "But…"

"Seriously! It's fine."

"Aunt Peyton, I'll stay with you." Jamie volunteered, warmth in his eyes.

"You don't have to! Luke will be right out."

Jamie hesitated. "…Ok." He turned to Haley. "Mom, I'm spending the night at Andre's house." He had to figure out what the fuck he was going to do about school.

"Ok." Jamie gave his mother another hug and was off.

Peyton finally managed to coax Haley to head back home, as she stood waiting in the parking lot. "Don't forget about me." she muttered sarcastically to herself.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

"Guess she forgot about me." I sighed to myself, sitting at the front of school, far from the field house. I didn't want to risk my mom seeing me, although this whole thing was probably a waste considering mom probably has to turn around and come get me anyways.

I'm too livid to care much about Katie right now, to be honest. So my dad can hug Sandra, can hold her hands, can kiss her on the cheek…but can't be bothered to even talk to my mom about…anything? It's just not fair. And it really, really pisses me off. But I know it's irrational…it's irrational because Ryan committed suicide, so I'm not allowed to be mad. I know he had a special relationship with my father. I know that. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't even hear somebody call my name. It isn't he gently taps me on the shoulder that I'm brought back to my current situation.

"Hey!" Adrian's voice floats over to me for a second, I'm comforted. "What are you doing out here?" When he sits down next to me and I feel a chill out of nowhere.

"Just getting fresh air." I answer truthfully. "It was a lot to handle in there. How did the photographs come out?"

"Don't know yet. I don't look at them until I get home after a job. I like to call it delayed gratification."

I chuckle. "You're so good that you call them 'jobs', huh?"

"….Yeah." Adrian admits, laughing. His laugh was contagious, the best kind. When the mirth died down, Adrian and I sat together for a minute or two in comfortable silence. This was the first time we've seen each other outside Angela's classroom. But…nothing's different. "So…I didn't realize right away that Ryan was one of your dad's players. I'm really sorry. I wanted to tell you that, I just didn't…didn't know how."

"That's just fine to me." I assure Adrian with a little smile. "I didn't know Ryan all that well. But my father is devastated…we don't really know what to do about that." I feel my stomach begin to twist with nerves like it always does when I start to feel a little exposed. I try to avoid that feeling, but it's hard.

Adrian nodded, and swallowed. The air was so quiet I heard it travel down his throat. His eyes are burning like embers. I have to be careful with those eyes of his. "We could…we could get pancakes."

Adrian's answer is so out of nowhere that I start laughing, and he laughs with me. "What?"

"I mean, when I feel bad about something, I…go and eat pancakes." Adrian says confidently. "With blueberries."

"You have a very vivid imagination."

"Thanks." Adrian smiles at me. "So, do you want to?"

I didn't have to think about it for very long although I pretended to. I smile back at him and I see his shoulders relax. He was nervous! I have to say he hides it pretty damn well. "I'd love to."

Adrian smiles, stands, and holds out his hands for me to take. I take them and they feel soft, and he pulls me to my feet with surprising strength. Adrian made sure I was stable by putting one of his hands on my waist and my stomach did a flip. …_oh my god_. The fact that that alone has me getting nervous has to mean something, right? I watch as he picks up my crutches, flips them the right way, and hands them to me. He didn't let go of my hand once. "There you go."

"You're pretty good with these. I don't say that too often, so consider that a compliment."

"Really? How hard can it be?"

We start walking side by side. "Oh, you'd be surprised."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas practically tore his office apart looking for that envelope. He'd put it together the night Peyton confronted him at his auto shop about the almost accident. It was true, what they said. People often write the things they can't say. Luke was kicking himself for making Peyton wait so long, but what was he supposed to do? Sandra was pouring her heart out to him. He couldn't just leave.

Lucas eventually found the envelope and ran from the school. He reached the emptier parking lot and frowned when Peyton was nowhere to be found: she left. Lucas sighed, and kicked his shoe over some gravel, sending it scattering through the air, much like CJ had earlier on the court. "Shit!" He was too late.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Adrian took me to The Pancake House right on the River Walk. I'd been to it a few times and always left satisfied. We sat in a booth by the window and were handed menus by our waitress. "Is it a betrayal to The Pancake House if I order waffles?" I was completely serious and was hiding behind my menu.

Adrian laughed. "Yes Ella. There's something wrong with you. If you wanted waffles you should've gone to the Waffle…Kingdom. I just made that up but you get my point."

"I like waffles." I pout, and Adrian grins. I ended up getting waffles with all kinds of fruit and whipped cream, and Adrian got blueberry pancakes. We were talking and all of a sudden, Adrian grabbed his Nikon and snapped a photo of me. My eyes widened in horror but I'm smiling. "Delete that!"

"Why?" He took another one rapidly.

"Because…I was unprepared."

"Those are the best kinds." Adrian argued. "Don't worry. You look beautiful."

The moment is so understated yet it isn't. I'm blushing. I look across the booth and I can't believe that we're actually eating breakfast. It's almost 2:30 in the morning, I've never felt more awake and I'm out to breakfast with Adrian. If I didn't know any better I'd think it was just another dream.

"Can't take a compliment, can you?" Adrian joked, still holding onto his camera. He took another shot, to my apparent annoyance, even though I loved every minute of it.

"Never." I admit. My mom is the same way. "Show them to me."

"No way."

"What! Oh come on." I roll my eyes as he looks through them on his camera's display.

"Not yet!" Adrian insisted, resting his camera on the table. "I've got about 20 questions for you." That smirk of his should be illegal.

"Ha. Very clever."

Adrian smiled softly and watched me for a second or two. "What's your story?"

I feel my heart pounding. _Whoa. _"That's like… a million questions in one."

Adrian threw his hands up dramatically. "Fine. Start from the beginning, then."

So, I do. "Um…well, my parents named me after Ella Fitzgerald…"

Adrian nods. "Excellent choice."

"Really?" Most kids our age like shitty music.

"Hell yeah. Her voice is gorgeous. She inspired me to play saxophone." Adrian's eyes brightened with an idea. "Question number two: play any instruments?"

"Piano for nine years."

We went on like this until I figured out all the names of Adrian's immediate family and how they got here: His paternal grandparents immigrated from Greece (that's where his last name, _Katsavis, _came from); his father's name was Jesse; his mother' s name was Rebecca and he had a younger brother named Nicky, short for Nicolas of course. "My dad used to be a musician but works in advertising, and my mother is a talk-show host, she's from…Minnesota." Adrian shuddered. "So random. But we moved to Tree Hill because this is where my maternal grandmother is." It wasn't long before we got into the heavier stuff, and of course Adrian had to ask first. "What do you think one of your biggest flaws is?"

I'm confused. "Are you sure you want me to answer that?" Seems like a sure fire way to scare him off.

"I wouldn't have asked." Adrian challenged me, his smirk returning. Damn him. But he's so cute! Shit.

I sigh, and it isn't until I think about it under Adrian's gaze that I comprehend the gravity of the situation. My stomach doubles over, my early breakfast swirling about. Do I tell him the _real_ answer, or make something up? "My temper." _Lame. _

As I thought, Adrian calls me on it. "That's not a flaw. Everyone has a temper."

_I know_. I want to say. _Mine's fucking awful_. "Fine." I start getting really nervous. Oh, God. When does it ever end? "Do I have to say it?" I look to Adrian obviously. I hope he's good at reading between the lines and taking a girl's hints. "I mean…. you know what it is." The words have never felt so heavy in my throat.

Adrian shrugs. "No."

I stare at him. Damn. I only ever told him about my _surgeries._ I never mentioned the CP. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. I could have avoided this days ago. Oh, damn it. "Um…well…it's…" suddenly I can't look at Adrian, my face is getting red and I feel tears pricking my eyes. _What the hell?_ I'm supposed to be good at this. I hate everyone.

Adrian was watching me this entire time, and when I gather the courage, I meet his gaze, and his face falls slowly, melting into sadness like snow melts after winter disappears. His camaraderie completely diminishes and he softens. His gorgeous eyes look wounded, like…like seeing me upset actually hurts him. "Ella…"

"It's fine." I bite out, holding my tears back so damn hard. What the fuck is wrong with me. Whoa. I don't know what's going on. _Get it together. They always said you had a scientific mind. Think…think like a scientist. Think like Dr. Farrell. _"I have cerebral palsy." Just like that my tears are drying as I emotionally separate. "It's basically a neurological condition that affects body movement and muscle coordination. That's on the most basic level. There's damage to one or more areas of the brain and it varies where, and this damage disrupts the brain's ability to adequately control movement and posture. There are several specific types of CP, and mine is called spastic diplegia. Spasticity is basically very high muscle tone, which is why my walking may look a little awkward. I'm just really stiff in my legs and a little in my hands. 'Diplegia' just means that the CP messes up my legs; two limbs."

Adrian nods, sits with the information for a while. I'm terrified. "How old were you when you could explain that to people?"

I shrug. "Eight."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Jamie and Andre were sitting on Andre's deck, having a few beers and enjoying the beautiful night. It was a while before Jamie gathered the courage to say something. "I just wanted to check up on you, man. I wasn't sure if any of this with my uncle triggered anything with Quentin."

Andre looked to his best friend and his eyes flickered, taking a swig of his Stella. "Of course it has. But I'm uh…I'm alright."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Andre insisted. "I mean…it hurts like hell, and I miss him." Andre looked to all the stars up above his head, and it looks like God himself painted them on the sky. "But I know he's around." Andre cleared his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly. "Look, I don't know if it's the best idea to tell my mom about you staying here; I don't want to put her in an uncomfortable position. As far as she knows…. you're here because we're both on Fall Break."

Jamie nodded. "Ok." As for what he was going to do after Fall Break ended, he had no fucking idea. Clara still wasn't speaking to him; his parents had no clue. Jamie couldn't stay for much longer at home without his parents getting suspicious. Jamie lit one of his cigarettes like he did when he was stressed: he had to figure something else out as a contingency plan, and he had to do it fast.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

Adrian and I were walking slowly down Main Street towards my house. It was a long walk but we didn't really care. I tried to convince him I wasn't worn out yet, that I had a couple more blocks left in me before I had to take a rest, but he insisted I sit on a swinging bench with him for a second. "I feel like a fuck-up." Adrian confessed. "I didn't mean to make you upset."

"Oh, please. Don't worry about it. I was just being honest." I brush my hair away from my face and I feel Adrian's gaze on me. "But…tell me your flaw, and then we'll be even."

Adrian let out a breathy laugh, and I watched it travel into the warm air. "Sometimes…. sometimes I feel like I have to take care of everyone, and I go out of my way to do it even if it's at my expense. I tend to impulsively carry a lot on my shoulders when I don't have to. I know that probably sounds dumb after yours…but…."

"That's not dumb. If compassion is one of your 'flaws', I'd say you're doing pretty good." I nudge his shoulder to cheer him up when I saw he got sullen. "Oh come on. We're teenagers. We're supposed to be all broody and take on more than we can possibly handle."

"Yeah…I guess. But when it's completely out of your control, it's hard." Adrian said, and I'm left wondering what he means since he doesn't offer specifics. He clears his throat and I can tell, he's nervous again. "Just so you know….you might think that all people see is your CP, and your crutches when you walk down the hallway. But…" he looks up at me and I might just melt then and there. "I don't see anything. All I see is you."

The next thing I feel is Adrian gently taking my hand. Our fingers intertwine and it feels like it's always meant to be this way. We sit in silence for a while...thinking.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas walked up the stairs of his house quietly, looking for Peyton. She was probably asleep by now, was his thought as he reached their bedroom. Lucas gently pushed the door open with his palm, and sure enough Peyton was sleeping on her side of the bed by the night table. She looked angelic as she was drowned in the twilight light pouring in through the window. Lucas padded over to her, holding his breath; she was so beautiful. Lucas sat gently by her side, seeing that she had a book open across her chest; he recognized it immediately. Lucas carefully picked up _The Comet_, placed a bookmark in the pages and set it on the night table. Then, he looked down at her, softly brushing the hair away from her face. Lucas reached down and kissed her temple, then on the cheek, before breathing in her scent. He felt his fingers tangle with hers, his other hand reaching to stroke the skin of her waist. She doesn't wake, but that's ok. He'd talk to her later.

In the silence of the night, Luke whispered he loved her. He loved her, and he was sorry.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I don't want to _know_ what time it is; but I'm not tired at all. I didn't think about Katie forgetting me once. I walk up the stairs to my room as quietly as I can, but apparently I wasn't quiet enough.

"Ella? What are you doing?" Mom calls from her bedroom. Damn. I'm so fucking loud.

I peer into Mom's bedroom. She's up, eyes bleary but she's up, holding her weight on her elbows before sitting up in bed completely. "Hey, sorry. Go back to sleep."

"Get in here." Mom demands, watching as I slink into the room, take off my sneakers and climb into bed next to her. "I thought you were going to sleep over at Katie's house?"

"Yeah I was going to, but something came up. Where's father of the year?"

"He's sleeping in the guest room." Mom reveals honestly.

"Why?" I ask, fear building in my chest.

"I don't know. You can stay with me." Mom opened her arms and I crawl into them, immediately feeling warm and safe. I lean my head on her chest. "So, did Julie kick you out again?" Mom laughs at Julie's ridiculousness.

"No." I say. I'm actually glad I woke Mom up, because I decided I had to tell _someone_ about breakfast with Adrian. If I woke Catherine up, she would slaughter me. I decided I didn't really want to call Katie anyway. "I actually…went to breakfast with a boy." My heart starts pounding and I get really nervous, but in a good way.

Mom looks at me and says nothing. She raises her brows. I smile cheekily. "A boy? What boy?"

"A friend." I amend quickly.

"Your boyfriend!" Mom shrieks, sitting up even straighter.

"No!" I insist, calming her down. "He's just a boy, a boy who is my friend. His name is Adrian; we met in Angela's Human Rights class. We're working on a project together."

"So he's older than you."

"Well, yeah. But only by like…a year. He's a photographer so he was working for Midnight Madness, and then saw me afterwards and invited me out to breakfast at The Pancake House."

"So you were out very late with a boy I haven't met and you didn't ask me permission?"

I stare at her. "Mom, come on."

"Excuse me, you're my only daughter." Mom thought suspiciously. "I mean, is he nice? Is he nice to you? Where is his family from?"

"San Francisco, and his grandparents immigrated from Greece. He's a sweetheart and he's _really_ nice to me, actually."

Mom narrowed her eyes at me like she does when she's trying to read me. She never fails. "I want to meet him."

I snicker and burrow further into her chest, staring at the ceiling fan. "No way."

"Oh yes way." Mom tells me, stroking my hair. It's funny how she can be loving and stern at the same time. "Did he pay for your breakfast?"

I thought about it, and smile just a little bit. "He might've….snuck the bill." I admitted, getting red in the face. I didn't even notice that he paid for the both us. Shit is real.

"Uh huh." Mom nods knowingly. "I'm meeting him."

"Mom!"

"What's the big deal?" Mom smiled after a moment. "You like him, don't you?"

"No."

"Yes you do."

"…. Maybe." I whisper childishly, wrapping my arm around her waist. "I think he likes me too." I shut my eyes, nearly surrendering to sleep as Mom starts to rub my back.

"Oh God." Mom says back, dismayed. "I'm _so _not ready for this."

I laugh. "You weren't much older than me when you fell in love with Dad." I argue, moving to look up at her. She smiles a gentle smile.

"No." Mom admits. "But you're my baby."

I look at my mother in the evening light and decided she never looked lovelier. I think about her tears the other day when I confronted her, and I'm heartbroken all over again. "I'm sorry about the miscarriage."

"Honey, you already apologized. You don't have to anymore. It's OK. I guess it just wasn't meant to be, right?"

"Yeah, sure." I say, my voice quivering. I reach up and kiss my mother on my cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Mom shakes her head at me and laughs. "My daughter meeting a boy. I'm definitely not ready for this."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Two days later_

Nathan Scott sighed as he sat in his black desk chair, swiveling towards his mahogany desk in the middle of his giant office with the kick ass view. Another day, another dollar, he always said. Lately he and Clay had been so busy trying to sign a talented football player from Arizona that Nathan barely had the time to relax. He also had endorsements and commercials to shoot that came with the territory of being a retired NBA superstar. But that was good, though. Busy is good. But he got an awful headache just looking at mountainous piles of paperwork. Nathan sighed in relief as the telephone rang and he was spared for a few minutes. "Fortitude Sports Agency. This is Nathan."

"_Hi, Mr. Scott, this is Sheila from the office of the Dean of Studies at William & Mary. How are you today?" _

Nathan frowned. "I'm doing fine, how are you? May I ask what this is concerning?" Nathan listened patiently, eventually frowning even more. He tried to stay as calm as possible as he asked questions, some slightly angry, some not. After what seemed like forever, Nathan hung up and took a deep breath. It was no use. His eyes blazed in complete rage, and yelled _very_ loudly that he thought the ground would start shaking. "JAMES!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Uh-oh. Jamie's busted! Lucas has an 'envelope' for Peyton. What is it? Did you guys enjoy Adrian/Ella's time together? I've gotten a positive response to him so far, so I think he's sticking around. Also, be mindful of Katie. There's drama brewing there, and there will be trouble for Ella/Katie. But what?  
_

_I wanted to ask you guys something: I'm thinking of changing the title to the story. I decided on it a very long time ago, and since this story is changing and shifting shape rapidly, I just don't think that the title fits with the tone of the story anymore. What do you guys think? I was thinking of changing it to "You Are Not Alone", just because I think that song fits more with this story's overall message. Please let me know if it's a good idea. Much love. REVIEW! _


	8. Chapter 7

_TITLE CHANGE! From now on, enjoy, **"You Are Not Alone". **__I've decided to respond to your reviews this way, but I can PM you guys, too...just to show that I love that you love my story so much. I put a RIDICULOUS amount of effort and thinking into them, because well, it has my name on it. It's just nice to see my work is appreciated is all. Keep the reviews coming :) They make me feel better if I'm feeling down._

_**michellebell...**glad to know you trust me. Ella/Katie will be tested, beginning now. I think you'll love this chapter...there's a lot of Adrian in it :)  
_

_**Othello...**I recommend listening to "You Are Not Alone" for the last bits of the chapter...I did as I was __writing it. _

_**pauguina...**I think Ella deserves love, too :)  
_

_**kc1997kc...**Yay for catching up! :) FYI I had to look up what "rage quit" meant, LOL!  
_

_One thing I wanted to say about LP in this story: they are not as blissful as they were in LIB, obviously. It''s going to take a bit for their issues to be worked out. But please have faith. __Hang on tight and wait until the end because it **will** knock you sideways. I might not be able to update for a bit because I'm going back to school for second semester. _

_Chapter Seven_

Haley was doing laundry when she heard Nathan yelling from his office, and so she ran to the commotion. "Nathan!" Haley exclaimed. "_What_ is going on?"

"Where is Jamie?" Nathan asked instead, curling his fists in anger…he'd never lay a hand on any of his children, but he could sure as hell break something of no value. But yet, one look into Haley's big, beautiful brown eyes and Nathan told himself to calm down. His chest heaved in several deep breaths, in and out, in and out. Nathan put his hands on his desk and said through clenched teeth, "The Dean's office at William & Mary just called: they're kicking Jamie out of school, forcing him to take time off."

Haley's mouth dropped in shock. "What? Why!"

"He was failing, Haley! He was failing since he started sophomore year and lied to us. He got all F's!" Nathan was trying hard not to yell, remembering Olivia was napping and he didn't want to startle her.

"They can't just kick him out for getting all F's this one time…"

"Well, they can kick him out for selling drugs in his fucking dorm room!"

"What?' Haley asked again. "No, James doesn't do drugs."

"Yeah? Well how come Campus Security wrote him up several times with marijuana possession? I guess that's why he was failing!" Nathan shouted. "I can't believe this. $60,000 down the Goddamn drain!"

"Okay, Nathan calm down. We're going to figure this out."

"I want him in here." Nathan demanded, his voice rising. "Seriously Haley, get him in here now. I refuse to be played like a fucking fool."

"I'm sure he had his reasons…"

"Reasons for what?" Nathan asked his wife, staring at her incredulously. "Reasons for selling? He failed because he was selling. Don't defend him on this."

"He's my son."

"JAMES!"

"Stop yelling!" Haley insisted, but Nathan was too pissed to pay any mind. The two parents decided to form something of a strategy before confronting Jamie, and when they were ready; Haley summoned Jamie into the office, being sure to remain neutral.

"What's up Dad?"

"Sit down and close the door." Nathan replied firmly, his eyes blazed in anger. Haley stood by his side and grabbed his forearm. _Don't scream. _

James did so, growing increasingly wary of his parents' behavior. He slowly sat down in the chair across from his father's desk, and Nathan was leaning over it: the man looked a mess. His black suit jacket was flung over the chair, his tie was undone, and his white shirt collar was unbuttoned. Nathan usually did that when he was stressed. Something was up here.

"What's going on with you at school?"

Jamie ground his jaw and avoided his father's hard glare. "Nothing."

"Look me in the eye and tell me that."

Jamie looked into his father's eyes and just his hard stare got his knees to trembling. His parents knew. He was going to fucking _kill_ Matthew. "Nothing."

"You're lying," Nathan said simply, gesturing to the phone on his desk. "The Dean's Office at William & Mary just called, said that they're forcing you to take time off because you got all F's. You want to explain yourself?

Jamie said nothing.

"Hello?" Nathan prodded sternly. "James, I'm speaking to you!"

"Nathan…" Haley tried, watching her son intently. Jamie had a habit of shutting down whenever he was yelled at or scorned without getting a chance to speak…he figured if he wasn't given a fair chance, he wouldn't even try to rebuttal.

Nathan pounded the desk with his hand and both Haley and Jamie almost jumped out of their skins. "Answer me!"

"No," Jamie decided, his voice stale and void of any emotion. He was fighting hard to keep the tears back.

"No what?"

"No, I don't want to explain myself."

"Too bad. I want to know why you were selling drugs in your dorm room," Nathan demanded icily. "Not giving me an answer is unacceptable James."

A chill ran through Jamie's body and he sat up straighter, his heart pounding. "I don't know."

"You don't know," Nathan restated bluntly, sharing a glance with Haley. He sighed in frustration before all the anger started bubbling up to the surface again. "I can't believe this. You lied to us! You would talk to us on the phone and lie to us about how you were doing. Damn it! All that money we spent for your tuition is wasted!"

Jamie shook his head and scoffed as he stared his father straight in the face and crossed his arms in defense. "Well, it's not like we can't afford it." Jamie gestured to the huge office, and even more the mansion that they lived in. "Right, Dad?"

Nathan raised his brows. "Excuse me? We didn't raise you to be an ungrateful jack-hole. Your mother and I have worked extremely hard to get where we are, which meant we didn't fool around!" Nathan raised his voice very loudly, second by second. "Do you know how lucky you are to go to that school? MAYBE I should drop you off somewhere else where kids live in one-bedroom shacks on the side of a dirt road, and you'd think twice about ignoring all that we have given you and becoming a fucking drug dealer! Are you FUCKING kidding me?"

"Take it easy…." Haley tried, but her plea got evaporated in the thick air surrounding them all.

"I…. Dad …can I just EXPLAIN?"

"NO! NO you can not: I'm talking now!" Nathan shouted louder, anger crawling up his throat. "You listen to me: you may not receive financial aid because we are very _fortunate, _but $60,000 is still a lot of money, which is now wasted, thanks to you. I used to think you were smarter than me."

"Alright you know what!" Haley rose up her hands and it was now her yelling. "That's ENOUGH." Haley's glare was so deadly it made Nathan feel like he was two feet tall. Shit. "We are done here."

Jamie didn't say another word, instead scrambling out of his chair like it was made of hot lava, all the while wiping his tears on the collar of his shirt…he left his dad's office and went straight for the front door.

Haley watched her husband over: through their marriage she'd watched how Nathan's temper destroyed him slowly, and it all came to a heartbreaking climax when he ended up in that wheelchair for a little while when Jamie was four. Haley would be damned if she let something like that happen again. "I think you were too hard on him."

"Are you kidding me? He's DEALING DRUGS!"

"DON'T scream!" Haley shouted back; her short stature was deceiving for a woman with such a powerful, loud voice. Nathan was still learning that to this day even though he married her at sixteen. "Do not scream at me! You didn't even let him talk. Did you even consider that something might be terribly wrong for Jamie to spiral like this?"

Nathan didn't answer right away because he was afraid things would escalate. He took a few deep breaths. "Sorry."

Haley crossed her arms, unconvinced. "Nathan, you sounded like a freaking lunatic…like Dan."

Nathan's eyes flickered in hurt, and he stepped back as if wounded. He never, _ever_ wanted to hear that comparison…even if it killed him. "Don't say that."

"It's true: that's who you sounded like."

Nathan sighed and clapped his hands together in desperation. "I'm sorry. I got out of hand. I'm just angry."

"So am I. But we need to _talk _to him, not scream at him. You promised we were just gonna talk to him and then you…"

"Yeah, I know." Nathan cut her off. Haley was known to harp on things before Nathan put her in her place once in a while.

Haley rolled her eyes and walked out of Nathan's office, but not before mumbling, "United Front…take your United Front and shove it for a little while Nathan. I'm talking to our son." Haley slammed the door behind her and Nathan was left wondering how in the hell he got left as the bad cop on this one.

x-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-x-

I was walking along the quad with headphones in my ears, secretly counting down to Angela's class. Today's Tuesday, which means it's fourth period. I know, it's pathetic that I'm kind of sort of waiting around for it, but I'll get to see Adrian. We've been texting back and forth pretty much non-stop since breakfast after Midnight Madness, but that's most definitely not the same as talking to him in person.

My thoughts hit another track as I see my best friend scrambling along in a sort of frazzled way ahead of me. I quickly pull my headphones out of my ears even though Héctor Lavoe is still playing. I've decided to go with some Spanish music this afternoon, just to brush up. Since my parents don't speak Spanish (actually the only person I know who speaks Spanish is Katie), I have to make sure I don't lose touch with it, which means self-discipline and desire to learn, which I have plenty of. "Katie!" l shout; huffing angrily when my red ear buds get tangled with my crutches, not bothering to gather them up.

Katie turns and sees me, before flicking her new bangs out of her eyes. "Oh, hey." I watch her closely; she isn't making eye contact with me and is instead staring at the ground. If I didn't know any better I would think she was avoiding me.

"Hey. What happened on Friday? We were supposed to hang out." I remind myself not to get too angry and give Katie the benefit of the doubt: as her best friend, at least I owe her that. "I haven't heard from you since then."

"Oh…yeah, I'm so sorry about that. Something came up…I burned my foot; I splashed boiling hot water on it by accident," Katie subtly twists her lips to the side, but it's not subtle enough for me: she does that when she's being flaky, which I'm sorry, is _a lot_. It drives me nuts.

I glance down to Katie's feet, but she's wearing bluish gray Converse, so I obviously wouldn't be able to see any burn bandages. "Oh, damn. Are you OK?"

"Yeah...yeah I'll be fine. Things have been super crazy with stuff, so…"

I wait patiently for Katie to elaborate but she doesn't. Something is going on, I can tell. What she just said didn't even make any sense. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Um…. I can't really now, because of class and everything…."

Jesus. The girl seems so jittery it's like she's going to crumble into dust if she doesn't start moving away from me. "Oh, Ok. Well maybe we can hangout sometime this week and catch up? I have so much to tell you." _Good and bad_, I thought. But mostly good…or bad….I just can't wait to see her face when I tell her that Adrian took me to breakfast.

"Yeah…yeah! Sounds good. I'll call you, yeah?"

I pull my shades over my eyes so Katie doesn't see my disappointment. I realize I probably look a hell of a lot like my mother in shades and her black leather jacket (which she doesn't know I grabbed because I went to school with Dad in a painfully awkward car ride), but I really don't mind. "Cool."

Katie runs off before she gives me a kiss on the cheek like she usually does, and I'm left watching her go and wondering what in the hell just happened.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Peyton ran a hand through her hair and let out a sigh. Miranda was out sick today, Chris had yet to arrive, and she was alone. Just like she'd spent the weekend, really. Before her day got chaotic, Peyton searched her laptop, browsing through old photographs she kept. Eventually she came across one of her and Lucas, arms wrapped around one another and laughing at the camera. Peyton couldn't remember where or when the picture was taken, because all she noticed was how happy and in love they looked. Lucas had a sparkle in those gorgeous eyes that had dimmed over the summer, dimmed since they had lost the baby and since Ryan died. Suddenly Peyton was hit with a wave of emotion, and her eyes teared up: she didn't know it would be possible to miss Lucas so much even though they still slept next to each other every night. But, Lucas didn't hold her like he used to…._ that_ was different…. that and so many other things.

Peyton heard Chris' footsteps as he walked through the doors, and she quickly wiped her eyes and turned away in her chair. "What's up, Blondie!" he called, always cheery. "Ready to make some magic?" Chris stopped in his tracks when he noticed Peyton wasn't turning around or replying in a wonderfully witty way. "You're not laughing." He removed his shades from his eyes before gently turning Peyton's chair to face him, and that's when he saw the tears falling down her face. Chris' eyes widened and his mouth fell open just a little bit. "Whoa. Are you…are you OK?"

"I'm fine."

"Peyton. Chris Keller knows fine, and that is not fine." Chris ushered Peyton to sit next to him on the green couch, and he lazily draped his arm around the chair. "Talk to me."

"Chris, it's nothing."

"You were crying; is it something with your daughter?" Chris asked, and Peyton saw worry in his eyes: was he actually concerned?

"No!" Peyton exclaimed, worry in her stomach at just the mere _possibility _of something happening to Ella. "No, it's just…I really don't feel like talking about this right now."

Chris gazed at Peyton, noticing how green her eyes were, and the way the strap of her dress fell slightly off her shoulder. Maybe he was a little buzzed from the liquid courage he had with breakfast (a habit when he recorded), or maybe not, but God Peyton really was beautiful. More than that, she was a Goddess; he had a Goddess for a boss. "You don't feel like talking about it, or talking about it with me?" Chris challenged, vulnerability hitting him out of nowhere. "Just because I'm a smartass sometimes, doesn't mean I don't care about you…. I've known you a long time." Chris decided, pushing thoughts out of his mind…. Peyton consumed him ever since he'd arrived in Tree Hill, he just hid it like _nobody's business_. Peyton was his boss, this was a record deal, and she was married with a child. Married, but he wasn't so sure about happily married…since well, Lucas had not shown up since Chris started recording at Red Bedroom: not even a cameo.

"Chris, I know…." Peyton said, her voice the gentlest it had ever been with Chris Keller. "I appreciate that. But…I'm fine," Peyton insisted, looking Chris over. Today he was wearing a black button down shirt with a black jacket, along with jeans and brown shoes. He had definitely changed from the scrawny Chris she used to know. Peyton cleared her throat when she noticed Chris reaching to put his hand on her bare knee. He was _not_ supposed to be putting his hand anywhere near there. Chris pulled back, ashamed. Peyton scrambled to take a few steps back into more stable conversation…one that didn't have her emotions raging all over the place…. vulnerable woman and comforting, handsome man was never a good combination. "So, how's Taryn?"

"Done and dirty: that was a Tuesday I'm bored kind of thing." Chris stood up and straightened out his suit jacket in an accomplished sort of way, though he could feel Peyton's glare burning holes in the back of his head.

"You are _such_ an asshole," Peyton said plainly, shaking her head at him….yet she couldn't help but laugh a little bit at her client's ridiculousness.

Chris tried his damn hardest not to stare at Peyton's long, smooth legs poking out from under that skirt. Yep…Goddess. _Lucas, that lucky son of a…_ "I know." Chris led Peyton into the recording booth.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-x-

I walked into Angela's classroom, everyone around me muted by music, and realize that Angela isn't even here, a substitute is. I hope this means that our presentation is postponed.

I keep my music plugged in as I do my big thinking as soon as the silence allows…. Dad sleeping in the guest room can't be good. I wonder if my parents had a fight and I just had no idea. I think about Katie and I hope she's doing OK. I hope Julie isn't keeping the poor girl sequestered in the basement or something. Sorry. That wasn't funny.

About a quarter way through class, it seems like the sub finally has a handle on things and is trying to get the class to chill out, but the class keeps mocking him like assholes. It's only when the short substitute teacher raises his voice that everyone gets dead quiet. I turn my music off and pull the headphones from my ears before I get yelled at. Out of the corner of my eye I see Adrian pass me a note from where he was sitting a few chairs away.

_Are you bored? Want to go do something?_

Instead of answering, I pick up my pencil and draw a smiley face before handing Adrian the paper. He smiles in victory, before he gestures towards the closed classroom door. I dart my eyes towards the substitute teacher who was trying to fill out attendance. Adrian sees this and rolls his eyes at me as a tease. The only reason he's doing that is because he knows I'll leave now. Damn him. Of course I want to go, I just lack anything having to do with stealth and if I was ever cast as an agent in a James Bond movie I would die in the first ten minutes.

Screw it.

I nonchalantly pack up my things, when my classmate Jon sees me and starts laughing quietly from across the table. Jon's got headphones halfway in his ears and is sketching with a pencil: he's shown me his drawings before and he's _really _good.

"Haha…Ella's skipping class: so fucking funny." I whisper with a smirk, before throwing a pen at Jon. It flew above his shoulder. I missed, damn it.

Jon grinned stupidly. "Wow: you fail."

"Shut up." Luckily the substitute hasn't noticed anything, so I swing my backpack over my shoulder and walk out of the class. Adrian's right behind me, trying not to laugh. "What?"

"We're such rebels, skipping class and shit."

I start laughing too. It's true: we're lame. But at least we're being lame together. "It was your idea." Adrian leads me down the stairs, and I'm so used to just taking my crutches in my other hand that I blink twice when Adrian takes them for me…. just so he could hold my hand. I feel my stomach doing flurries but he holds on tight and leads me down the stairwell like a true gentleman. "So...tell me more about this 'delayed gratification' theory of yours."

Adrian laughs as we go down the stairs. "You know when you're a kid, and you _really_ want that Hershey's chocolate bar, but your mom makes you wait until after you eat your dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she does that with the belief that the chocolate will taste better if you wait until the right time to eat it. And it does, because you were a good little child and listened to your parents without being plagued with guilt."

"So, the longer you wait, the better the chocolate will taste?"

"Right, because it's a reward." Adrian takes me through the hallways, still holding my hand securely. It's a miracle I haven't lost my balance yet, but hey I'm cool with it. Adrian stops me before a closed classroom door and hands me back the crutches. "Wait right here."

"Ok." I bite my lip to resist asking Adrian what we're doing.

Adrian opened the classroom door, motioning to the camera around his neck. "I leave my camera here for safekeeping." Another girl about Adrian's age followed behind him, helping him out with a tripod. "Thanks for your help, Debbie."

"Whatever. I'm only doing this because you bought me a latte."

Adrian laughs. "Lattes go pretty far these days. Debbie this is Ella, Ella this is my friend Debbie. We take photography together."

"Hey!" Debbie greets after I do the same, a friendly smile on her face. "So you're the model, huh?"

I furrow my brows and glance at Adrian, but his expression reveals nothing. "Model?" I look at Adrian's camera, the tripod…. "Wait…"

"Don't say anything," Adrian pleaded, his eyes glowing. "Not until you see." The look on his face is so adorable that I can't refuse. So, when Adrian held out his hand, I took it. His hand fits in mine, almost like a puzzle piece, and for a second I forget that I've ever had crutches in the first place.

With Debbie walking far ahead of us, Adrian eventually lead me up a few flights of stairs, and he only asked if I needed to rest once, which I appreciated. The farther up we climbed, the more isolated the stairwell become. Adrian then led me to an even smaller stairwell with an intense bolted door at the top. I watch, mouth hung slightly open, as Adrian opens the door with a set of keys.

"Ok. So maybe you're a lot more badass than I thought." I look around the staircase and see that there's no one here besides Adrian, Debbie and me. "Are you going to kill me?" Adrian laughed and pushed the door open. I was immediately hit with a nice but not too overpowering, breeze. I stepped outside, Adrian as my guide. Behind Adrian, underneath the electric blue sky, was Tree Hill: the town where I grew up. "What are we doing on the roof?" I already know the answer, but I want to hear him say it. My stomach is doing flips and all I can think of Adrian smiling over at me. _This cannot be real._

"I'm going to photograph you!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas sighed and tapped the corner of his phone on the dining table. His glass of ice water sat untouched as he waited. Luke's legs began to shake in a nervous tick and he ordered them to stop, instead tapping his fingers in boredom.

After a few minutes Nathan slipped stealthily into the booth, shades over his eyes and a baseball cap over his head: customary get up when going out in public. Admittedly, Nathan got pretty damn good at sneaking in and out at places, considering he appeared out of nowhere. "Sorry to keep you waiting." Nathan immediately picked up his menu and began perusing through it.

"You look like a fugitive." Nathan was barely recognizable all covered up like that: the downsides of fame. "We could've met at the River Court; it's quieter."

Nathan stared at his brother with a blank stare. "I'm hungry and it's my lunchtime."

Lucas held his hands up in surrender; he didn't have much of an appetite lately. "So what's up with this lunch invitation followed by 'I need to cool off?'" Lucas asked, referring to Nate's text that dragged him out here in the first place.

Nathan sighed, clearly aggravated. Just the mention of it got him pissed again. He removed his glasses to show his blue eyes. "It's Jamie." Over lunch, Nathan proceeded to tell Lucas the whole ordeal.

Lucas didn't say anything for a minute or two. "Shit. Drugs?"

"Yeah. My son, the drug dealer."

Lucas ran his hands through his hair, at a loss for words. "Have you talked to him about it? What did he say?"

"I didn't talk to him. I screamed at him. I have no fucking clue how to handle it. Jamie usually does so well in school… I mean when I was his age that was different: Dan didn't give two shits as long as my grades were good enough for Whitey."

Lucas nodded: he could see that. "Just talk to him on his level…let Jamie know you're on his side. He probably feels bad enough."

Nathan scoffed: Luke didn't hear Jamie's smartass remarks. He honestly had no idea how women could handle talking about shit for so long….he was already getting riled up again. Nathan pursed his lips and remembered his James approach was really just a lead-in. The _real _conversation was actually…. "You talk to Peyton much at all?"

Lucas let out a sigh and at first tried to avoid Nathan's stare but it was too strong. "Haley put you up to this?'

"No. But she did tell me that you abandoned Peyton out in the cold Friday night."

"I didn't abandon her," Lucas retorted, his gaze turning as cold as ice. His fists curled at just the mere accusation. "I forgot something in my office, ran to go get it and ran into Ryan Hayes' mother. What was I supposed to do, leave her there? When I came back out, Peyton left."

"Luke, I understand that Ryan's death hit you really hard, but-"

"What is this? An intervention? Is this why you invited me out to lunch?"

"Yeah, it is. Lucas, you've been off the map! You think I don't know? That my wife doesn't tell me things?" Nathan took a deep breath, reminding himself that it might be too early to be confronting Lucas in this manner. Yes, Nathan had countless talks with Haley about Lucas' behavior, and Peyton's pain, since Peyton talked to Brooke, who occasionally would share with Haley if she thought it would be of any help. "Look: you're my brother, and I love you. But Lucas…you're a runner."

"A runner? What the hell is a runner?" Lucas would have laughed if the subject weren't so sensitive.

"You run away from your problems." Nathan said, raising his voice only in the slightest to show some authority. "You run away, and you push people away. I know what you're doing, because I've done it. Don't push Peyton away, man. She loves you so much."

Nathan's words rushed over Lucas' tired frame like a rough ocean wave that would have knocked him flat. The air around him got fuzzy and he felt his eyes fill with tears. But instead of feeling sad, he felt angry…. so he fought to keep the tears down. "When's the last time you spoke to Peyton? Or Ella?" Lucas challenged, feeling his blood boil…he had to remind himself that they were indeed in public. Nathan was for a moment, silent in guilt, so Lucas answered for him. "A while, right? Because you're busy with Fortitude, trying to provide for your family, just like I'm trying to do."

Nathan swallowed…he wanted to tell Lucas that _actually, you're still just running away_, and… "Lucas, you're trying to deal with everything by yourself. That never works…"

"Do me a favor, Nathan." Lucas spoke over him, and Nathan could tell that his brother was pissed. But he didn't care. Finally some Goddamn emotion was flowing out of the guy. "Don't concern yourself with my wife and me, alright?" Lucas demanded, angrily pushing up over the table and grabbing his jacket. "Thanks for lunch." Lucas stalked out of the diner without a second glance, fiery anger wisping off his heels.

Nathan shook his head in disappointment, and began to pick at the fries Luke had left on his plate, soon chuckling to himself: _Well, damn…at least Lucas was still referring to Peyton as his wife…that had to mean something._

-x-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-x-

"You are? Girls don't like it when you surprise them with a camera!"

"That's what I said," Debbie chipped in, placing down the tripod where Adrian marked with a piece of black tape. "But he wouldn't listen."

"Come on!" Adrian pleaded. "You said you wanted to do something!"

I sighed, and rolled my eyes behind my shades. I totally wanted to do it but for some reason I wanted to make Adrian fight for me a little bit…see if he really did want to hang out with me. Then again, if he didn't want to hang out with me, he wouldn't have dragged me to the roof of our high school with a camera. _You idiot. Say yes. _"Ok, fine! You're lucky I'm wearing what I'm wearing today." Mom's leather jacket complete with dark wash jeans, a tee and red Converse. I'm technically not supposed to be wearing Converse, and my feet are _killing_ me, but they looked so cute with my outfit that I couldn't resist. Wearing the same pair of sneakers everyday gets annoying after a while. I can't exactly wear heels, so….

I see Debbie smiling coyly. She stops me gently with her hand when Adrian wasn't looking. "Do you have lip gloss or anything?" she whispered.

"In my pocket."

"Put that on: he'll appreciate it." Debbie winked at me before turning to Adrian. "Do you need me anymore?" Debbie had a wry smile on her face. I decided I was a fan of this Debbie. "I've got class and…. I really don't feel like cock-blocking you, Adrian."

Adrian almost choked on his water bottle, and I erupted in laughter. "_Goodbye_ Debbie!"

Debbie bowed gallantly. "My work here is done. Thanks for the latte!" Just like that, Debbie turned on her heels and skipped across the roof and through the door, leaving Adrian and me alone.

"That was hilarious," I said, laughing some more. I subtly turn my back to Adrian and hurriedly put lip-gloss onto my lips.

"Shut up!" Adrian said, smiling. He gestured with his Nikon over a few steps. "Come over here."

I followed Adrian's instructions and stood there. I saw him watching me and I suddenly got _very_ self-conscious. I'm not used to being the one in front of the camera…like I said, I don't like too much attention on me. "Now what?"

Adrian chuckled, and suddenly he started taking rapid shots with his Nikon. "Just…do something."

"Do something?" _Oh Jesus. I'm so NOT made for this. _

"Smile!" Adrian encouraged, kneeling on one knee. He really did look pretty damn suave with the camera. "There we go: don't be self-conscious. Just relax."

As Adrian begins, I do my best to relax, easing my shoulders and trying not to lean forward so much on my crutches. There's no way the pictures can look good with these in the way. "Can the crutches not be in the pictures?"

Adrian looks at me, almost puzzled but yet he understands at the same time. "If you want. I can Photoshop them out later, too."

"No, I don't want them in the pictures at all." I ripped the crutches from my arms and threw them roughly to the ground. They bounced and crashed, but maintained not a scratch. "I'd rather throw them in a fire, actually."

Adrian laughed. "I'll light the match, then." Adrian took a few more shots of me standing without the crutches, liberated at last. I shut my eyes, the breeze going through my hair and think: _maybe this could last forever…_but nothing lasts forever, right? My muscles are tensing up and my crooked left leg is more crooked than ever as my hyperactive muscles get even more hyper. I feel myself losing my balance, and I can do nothing to stop it. So I let out a curse, my cheeks insanely hot as I stumble to the ground. Fuck. This was going so well until my CP decided to fuck it up.

"You alright?" Adrian asks, getting up to his feet.

"I'm fine," I grit though my teeth, pushing up on my palms against the ground. The Converse aren't doing anything to keep me stable because the canvas material is so thin, so it feels like my feet are pounding against the cement every time I take a step. Adrian holds his hand out and I grab onto him desperately before I lose my balance again. I look at him, happy he can't see my eyes, and tell him a truth I hate to admit: "If we're going to take pictures without my crutches, you're going to have to take them rapidly. I can lose my balance if I stand in one open spot for too long." I can hear the sternness in my voice and I tell myself to dial it down a little. It's just that I'm so used to dealing with idiots who can't see something when it's right in front of them.

"OK," Adrian said, simply, unfazed. He turned around and saw a strange something coming out of the roof. "Here, lean on this. We'll make it look like you're posing."

Just like that, I'm smiling again. Adrian's not an idiot…. I quite like that about him….and he _gets it…._just like my mom gets it, just like Aunt Brooke and Uncle Nathan and Jamie get it….and I like that about Adrian, too.

We spent who knows how long on the roof, moving around to different spots. All the while I had Adrian encouraging me from behind the lens, telling jokes and impersonating celebrities to make me laugh so he could get me smiling naturally, all the while I did different poses, trying to be creative. Eventually my nervousness faded away and I eased into it when I knew that it just Adrian and me up here, and there was no need to be shy.

I had been sitting against the ledge of the roof, my ankles crossed with my legs stretched out in front of me. Adrian took a few shots, before appearing from behind the camera. I missed his face. "Do you want to sit on the ledge?"

My head whipped to the ledge of the roof. "Of the roof?...Um…" My stomach flipped in nervousness. A hot, insanely awesome guy wanted me to sit down on the ledge of a roof for a photograph. "I don't know if that's a good idea." My mom's voice was in my head, screaming _no way in hell…you could fall. _If she saw this, she'd go ballistic. If she even knew Adrian took me to the roof, she'd lose her mind.

"If you're not comfortable with it, we don't have to. I'd just thought it would look _really_ fucking dope." I turned around and saw how electric the sky looked against the blue clouds, and the light was a little dimmer, almost an orange color.

I smirk, curling my lips. "Dope?"

"Yeah: dope." Adrian took a few more shots with his Nikon again.

I sat there thinking….I was the morose kid sitting on the sidelines, watching life pass me by as I stood still under a streetlight. All of a sudden I heard the ugly angels whispering to me again: _you're scared…scared to let go. It's always going to hold you back._ I grimaced…just the thoughts made me sick. But then…how long until a guy that I actually liked would invite me to be in a photo shoot and make me feel like a Goddess again? "Wait. I change my mind. I want to sit on the ledge."

Adrian stared at me, and then he smiled. He walked over and offered me his hands, before pulling me up with strength. I bet he works out. "Nice and easy."

I sit on the high ledge of the roof and instantly my legs turn in and my feet spaz up. It's as if they know I'm in some sort of danger…remember what I said about the fight or flight response? Example A.

Adrian saw the sun behind me and immediately started snapping photographs. "Beautiful. Lean forward and put your chin down a little bit." I did as he said. "Just like that." Adrian set his camera on the tripod, pressed a few buttons and walked towards me.

I gasped, feigning shock. I had just shed my mom's leather jacket as the sun was getting to me. I carefully rested it on the ground away from the camera's view. "Wow the photographer is making an appearance? How shocking."

Adrian laughed. "I don't do this for everybody, you know." He sat next to me and I suddenly got nervous, an _oh my God_ annoying and squealing kind of way. I felt him put his hand on my lower back and my skin tingled with electricity that came out of nowhere. He reached gently and took my sunglasses off my face, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead sweetly. "The sun's behind us now."

My breath hitches in my throat. Adrian's so close that he could kiss me, if we wanted to. _How am I here right now? _ I feel myself blushing and I look away from Adrian's intense stare because I'm afraid I'll just melt under it. "How's this gonna work?" I breathe in a daze.

Adrian smiles gently. "The camera has a timer. It'll go off any second." His other hand is hovering over mine on my lap, so I gently take it and he entwines our fingers. He's so close I can smell his cologne, he smells so good it's crazy. I'm wearing perfume, so it's a wonder we're not both dizzy. "Ready? Game time." Adrian makes a straight, blank face and I start to laugh. He joins me in laughter, and the camera goes off.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas bounded up the stairs of TRIC, going straight to see Peyton in her office. The envelope sat snug in his front pocket. He was going to just give it to her before he lost anymore time. Lucas wrenched open the door to see Peyton in the recording booth, sitting and laughing with….

Chris Keller opened the door from the recording studio, grinning that same old obnoxious grin. He opened his arms in greeting, "Lucas! Come join the party!" Chris saw Lucas glaring at him, and how his fists curled involuntarily…. the musician swallowed hard. "Or not."

"Lucas," Peyton breathed. "Hi." She couldn't remember the last time he had paid her a visit at work.

Chris looked between the married couple and almost suffocated with the tension. He subtly took a step back and retreated back to recording booth.

"Since when has Chris Keller been here?" Lucas asked, flexing his arms and crossing them over his chest.

Peyton resisted the urge to roll her eyes; he was jealous. Of course he was jealous. "A few weeks. John Knight sent him to record here." She began fixing papers on her desk, angrily crinkling them between her fingers. She had been fed up with Lucas ever since he had left her waiting in the parking lot on Friday.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Peyton scoffed and harshly brushed a golden curl from her face. "When would I tell you, Lucas? You're never home."

Lucas hung his head and sighed harshly. He wasn't sure if he could handle this. "Come on…"

"What!" Peyton exclaimed loudly, slamming the folders on her desk with a force that almost made Lucas jump. "It's true! Where are you when you're supposed to be home?" she demanded, a hand on her hip.

"I've already told you-"

"Right, at your shop. You know I _distinctly _remember telling you I was worried about this all those years ago."

"What are you talking about?"

"All those years ago, Lucas, a year after Ella's first surgery. We were at Wrightsville Beach and after mentioning buying the shop…. you told me, you'd never do anything 'to screw up what you had, that you had everything!'" Peyton was yelling now, anger coursing through her very veins.

The memory almost knocked Lucas off his feet. What he would give to rewind and go back, be there again. "Peyton-"

Peyton put up her hand to silence him. "No. Lucas, damn it! I knew it." Peyton slammed her laptop shut _hard._

Lucas swallowed and shut his eyes, gritting his teeth. "Is this about Friday? I didn't mean to leave you there: Ryan's mom had to talk to me, and when I came out you left."

Peyton laughed humorlessly. "Ryan. Right."

Lucas' eyebrows shot up and his heart began pounding in rage, his blood rushing to every part of his body. "Yes, Ryan! His mother came to me crying hysterically because her son fucking KILLED HIMSELF!"

Lucas' screams hit Peyton like sharp daggers, but she refused to let them harm her…. she knew what he was implying, that she didn't care about Ryan. But he was _so_ wrong: Peyton cried for Ryan every night. Bottom line, Lucas was grieving, and he was grieving with alcohol…and maybe, just maybe…. he was taking everything out on Peyton because he knew she would always be there. Lucas was gripping the back of the chair so hard his hands were trembling.

"Lucas," Peyton said shakily, tears in her eyes. "I know this really hurt you. I know you're heartbroken. But I'm trying to be there for you! God Luke…I _love _you…. but when I go to hug you, you pull away from me. _You're _pulling away from me. But when you were falling apart in my arms four weeks ago, YOU were the one who told me not to let go!" Peyton shouted, clamping her hand over her mouth to stop from crying hysterically. Her tears fell anyway, and she was _really _crying.

Lucas' heart sank and just like his anger crumbled into pain. He _hated_ seeing Peyton cry like that: it tore him up to his very core. "Peyton…"

"Just go," Peyton said tiredly, "I can't do this right now…I'm busy."

Lucas sighed and swallowed. The guilt over yelling at Peyton was already starting to eat at him. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out the envelope with her name on. "It's a letter." he said gently. "Just…please read it." Lucas wanted to tear his hair out. There's no way she'd read it after that. Peyton just stared at him, and Lucas turned and left.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

Adrian is looking at me and I feel like I might explode. He took a few shots of me sitting on the ledge with my legs stretched horizontally across and me smiling over my shoulder, and he suggested another pose. "Just lean back and try lying down," he suggested gently. "You won't fall, just relax."

There was something about his voice that almost had me melting. It was sweet but _so_ sexy at the same time. My heart is pounding like a drum, but I slowly lean back, my chest heaving. To my right was the roof of the high school, to my left was a huge drop off the building. If I moved the wrong way, I would fall. My legs tensed up like crazy, and I let out a little whimper.

"Ella, it's OK," Adrian calmed me. He quickly took his camera off the tripod. "Relax…. look over at me." Adrian waited until I took some deep breaths and relaxed my shoulders, and soon my knees stopped shaking. I just kept my eyes on his gentle gaze. I was petrified to move an inch. I let my arm hang over the safer side just a little. "Try and lift your right leg a bit," Adrian tells me from behind the camera, and I do it as he takes multiple shots. "That's gorgeous." A few more, until Adrian puts his camera back on the tripod, sets the timer, and heads back towards me. "Last one." I'm disappointed but I don't say anything. We could've spent the whole day up here and I wouldn't have noticed.

If it's the last one, I want to make it awesome. I know what I'm about to suggest is insane, but I do it anyway. "Can we stand for this?"

"On the ledge?"

I nod, biting my lip. "Just for a second."

Adrian walks next to me, before _carefully_ stepping up on the ledge of the roof. If God forbid he fell backwards, that would be it. But the ledge looks wide enough. I swing my legs onto the ledge, and he pulls me up to my feet. "Hold on."

My arms are wrapped around him tightly, and my muscles are burning in effort. I feel Adrian slip his hand under my shirt to my lower back to keep me steady, so I can stand up straighter and put my weight on him.

Yep…he's definitely suave.

_Don't look down. _I start shaking and I let out a whimper. "OK. Maybe this wasn't a good idea…. don't let me fall."

"I won't." Adrian is looking at me and his eyes have me weak in the knees. I feel my arms sneaking around his waist, and his other hand runs up my arm…I can feel the goose bumps rising on my skin.

"Why'd you pick me to be your model, anyway?" I asked Adrian in a whisper. I thought I'd be the last person he'd choose. I'm always noticed last.

Adrian sighed and smiled gently. He brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I wanted you to be able to see yourself like I see you." His gaze is away from mine for a second, and his admission in itself is as stunning as the first snowfall in winter, or that one purple streak of sunlight across the sky as the sun disappears. If I weren't listening, I would have missed it. Then Adrian says, quietly and honestly, "And because…. I think you're beautiful."

For a moment, I don't know what to say. Nobody's ever told me that before. So I just look at him, wondering where he's been all this time. Before I know it, Adrian's leaning towards me, and then he kisses me gently, and my whole body starts to shiver. When he pulls away, I'm cold. He gently presses his finger to his rosy lips and brushes off some of my strawberry lip gloss, smiling. _Thanks to my new friend Debbie. _

I look at Adrian looking at me, trying to soak up the moment. We're standing on the _ledge_ of a building roof, he's holding me in his arms with my town beneath our feet and…all I can think of is how I've never felt this way, but mostly, how I never thought I would.

Without thinking, just _feeling_…I pull Adrian towards me by his shirt, and his lips crash against mine rapidly, slowly…. he presses me against him with his whole body. Like he's always wanted me and can finally have me. I'm vibrating from my neck to my toes. It's only heightened when I feel his tongue brush against my bottom lip, his hand move further up my back….

We're so lost in one another that we don't hear the _click_ of the camera going off and capturing a moment I'll never forget.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Peyton walked into the recording booth, wiping at her eyes. Chris was sitting with a guitar in his hands, shuffling his feet. She had been sitting outside for at least an hour, and Chris didn't know what to do. He didn't hear the argument, but watching it was enough. Just like that, Peyton's tears that morning were no longer a mystery to Chris Keller. "You alright?" he asked, trying to sound noncommittal.

Peyton nodded and put on her best smile. "I'm fine. Play some music."

"What did you want to hear?"

Peyton felt her phone buzzing in her hand. She saw a text from Lucas that she almost didn't read….

_I'm sorry I hurt you. I know no one loves me like you do. _

Peyton's eyes filled in tears but she willed them not to fall. Instead she looked up at Chris and shrugged. "Anything."

Chris nodded, positioned his hands on his acoustic, and began to play.

x-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-x

Hours later, I found myself standing in TRIC's bathroom, splashing some cold water on my face. If I was going to surprise my mom at work, I had to pull this goofy smile off my face and act normal before she asks me what went on today. I'm not ready to tell her that I had my first kiss with Adrian…my first kiss ever. Just thinking it is embarrassing, so I'm going to let it sit for a while…at least until the butterflies stop fluttering.

I walked into the empty office, thinking nobody was there until I saw Mom's purse, and something like an envelope on her desk. I curiously walked over to it and picked it up. It had Mom's name on it…and it was written in Dad's handwriting. I'm suddenly really nervous and my fingers are itching to rip it open and read what's inside. But I don't.

I turn to the booth and see my mom sitting there, listening to Chris Keller record a song. I watch Mom for a moment: she looks so beautiful and at peace. I knock on the glass of the door to the booth with a smile on my face, and I wave.

Mom's smile is so big when she sees me that I'm laughing. She hands her set of headphones to Max the sound engineer, and leaves her chair to greet me. "Baby!" she opens her arms to greet me but stops in her tracks, eyes wide. Damn it. "Hey…that's my jacket!"

"I wanted to surprise you."

Mom stares at me before smiling again and draws me into her arms. She smells sweet but not too sweet. "Yay, I'm glad you're here," She whispers in my ear, as we sway back and forth. I abandoned my crutches against the wall so she can really hug me.

"Me too."

Mom kisses me on the forehead and she eyes me over. "Why are you wearing Converse? You know you can't wear those." Especially now that I don't wear AFOs anymore, the Converse really don't provide any support and my feet hurt _so bad_…but I'm choosing to ignore it.

"Because they look nice with my outfit."

"The song's done, Peyton-" Chris Keller walked out and almost did a double take. "Oh….what's up?"

"Chris this is my daughter Ella, Ella you already know-"

"Chris Keller," Chris interjected in his same egotistical way, holding out his hand for me to shake. "Bet this is your dream come true, huh?"

I stare at him blankly. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

Chris eyes fall and he looks like a wounded puppy dog…_way_ too easy. "Chris Keller," he repeated, stunted. I just stared. He walked away in a daze…"I'm gonna…go get some water."

Mom looks at me in our embrace. "You _really_ don't know who he is? I think that's bad."

"_Of course_ I know who Chris Keller is, Mom. I was just screwing with him. You didn't tell me toaster strudel guy was your mystery musician."

Mom starts to laugh and begins to tickle me. "Sh! Ella, he'll hear you!"

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

Mom and I are in the car on the way home an hour later, listening to some Macklemore. Mom stops at a red light and motions to a couple sucking the lips off each other on the corner. "Jesus." She turns to me in the driver's seat. "If I ever catch you and Adrian kissing like that, I'll kick your ass."

I start laughing like I always do when Mom says stuff like that. She' s_ such _a hypocrite but I keep my mouth shut. If only she knew about Adrian and me on the roof today… I hesitate but decide the hell with it. I've wanted to tell her about Adrian since I saw her…I can't _not_ tell her…."Speaking of Adrian, Angela was absent today, so Adrian and I went to the roof of the school and had a photo-shoot."

Mom raises her brows. I can tell she's mad. Shit. I knew it. "You skipped class and went to the roof?"

"We didn't skip, Mom. Angela wasn't even there. Half the kids skipped. And yes, we went to the roof. Adrian's allowed up there for photography class."

"Ella, that's dangerous," Mom begins, keeping her eyes on the road. Eventually we pull into our driveway. "Tell me you at least stayed away from the ledge."

I bite my lip. I can't lie; she'll know it. "It was just for a few shots…"

"Oh my God, Ella!" Mom yells, and she's actually angry. "Are you crazy? You could have fallen off!"

"Mom, calm down! Jesus, you're so overprotective of me." I cross my arms and roll my eyes, pulling my shades over my face.

"You're right; I am. I really don't like that you did that."

"Why?" I shout. "Because of my CP, right? Just because I have a disability means I can't do anything fun, ever, right? If it was Lily or Jamie, you wouldn't care."

"That's not true, anyone could have fallen off. Don't you read the news? Do you know how many kids fall off roofs because they're fooling around or tripping on acid?"

"OK, first of all, I don't do drugs. Second, we weren't fooling around! He was just photographing me, and one shot just happened to be me sitting on the ledge! God. Why does everything have to be about my cerebral palsy?" I ask her, and I hear my voice breaking.

"Baby, everything's not always about that…"

"Yeah it is!"

"OK, but sweetheart, I didn't bring it up. You did."

I cover my face with my hands to hide from the truth. "The story wasn't even about that." I tell her, a tear falling from my eyes.

"OK, so then tell me what the story really is, then," Mom urges gently, holding my hand. She moves my hair out of the way so she can see my face. I just wish she wasn't sitting so far away.

"Just forget it, I don't feel like talking about it anymore."

"Oh, please…please tell me. I promise I won't talk until you're done."

"No," I answer bitterly. I decided she doesn't deserve to hear about it if all she can concentrate on is having a disabled kid…the exact thing Adrian was trying to erase. "Lets just go inside." I open the car door and slam it closed before Mom can protest.

An hour or so later, I was lying on my bed listening to my IPod when I heard a knock on the door. "Yeah?"

Mom stuck her head in. "I was thinking macaroni and cheese for dinner."

"That's fine..." I tell her, playing with the hem of my shirt.

"OK. Well, there's no more milk; I'm just going to run and grab some now. The store's right there so I'm going to walk. I'll be right back." Mom held a few dollar bills and her keys in her hand so I'm assuming that's all she's taking. I didn't reply, just curled up on my bed, and Mom shut the door.

Not long after, I decided I really didn't feel like pouting in the house by myself, so I grabbed my Converse, threw them on my feet and sprinted to the front door. My plan was to catch up to my mom and make things better. By the time I made it to the sidewalk, Mom was a retreating figure a block away from me. I huffed in a breath of air for energy and ran as fast as I could to catch up to her. "Mom!" I called, but it was windy and she couldn't hear me. I was getting winded myself, my stomach curling in a stitch but I pressed through. Mom's already at the corner….I watch from afar as the passenger light turned green and she made moves to cross the street.

I didn't notice the car.

I didn't notice the car until I heard the shrill sound of a horn and saw blinding headlights…and eventually, my mother getting hit and falling to the ground.

"MOM!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	9. Chapter 8

_This is probably going to be the last chapter for a while. I have to step out and plan the next stages of this story, and that takes time. If you have suggestions, PLEASE let me know what they are! _

_Chapter Eight_

"MOM!"

They sometimes say that one's scariest moments are the longest. Well that's what it felt like when I watched my mother get hit by that car. My heart dropped into the depths that haunt all of us, my mind stopped beating and all I could think of was all the moments my mother and I have shared together. All of them wonderful, some of them heartbreaking….I knew that even if I shut my eyes to escape the horror of it all; it would still be there beyond the darkness. I ran as fast as I could to the corner, ignoring the loud crack as my crutches fell to the gravel. I ignored the pain as my knees harshly hit the ground. I'm crying, but I don't notice that either. "Mom…" I whimpered nervously and grabbed her hand. Mom's lying still but I can see that she's breathing. On instinct I look for blood but I don't see anything. "Mom!" I'm surprised I can hear my own voice. It's shaking, every part of me is shaking and everything's blurry and the only person I can see is the person I love the most.

"Who hit me?"

I lean towards Mom so I could hear her better. "What?"

"Who hit me?"

"Um… I don't know. I don't know." Whoever he is, I want to grab him out of his car and beat him into a pulp with my bare hands. I look around me and a crowd has formed. I ignore them. Mom is trying to move, squirming against the concrete like a fish squirms on dry land. "No." I say, holding her hand tightly. "Don't move, Mom." I tell her, brushing her hair away from her face and stroking her forehead as she has always done for me… "Don't move." Mom's looking at me in this hopeless kind of way, and it's breaking my heart in two.

"I'm calling 911…" a tall, burly man came up behind me, his cell phone already to his ear. I have no idea if he's the man who hit my mother. I have no idea about anything at all. I can't focus on anyone but my mother.. I wouldn't be here without her, and that's the truest thing you'll ever hear me say. "I was walking home and I saw the whole thing. I don't think she got hit, I think he was coming and she fell back, but she hit her head really hard…she needs to get to the hospital."

I'm too busy making sure Mom keeps her eyes open, making sure she holds onto my hand…. within seconds the street was full of police. It's chaos of flashing red and blue lights and worried murmurs of the sympathetic crowd. An ambulance has arrived and EMTs rush out and like a flood.

"Ella…" Mom's eyelids are fluttering, and her rosy lips are twisted in grimace and pain. I'm subtly checking the side of her head again for blood or bruising but I don't see anything, and Jesus I can't focus for the life me. All I can think is, _t__hey can't take her from me. They can't take her from me._

I lean in close, my hand on Mom's forehead. "It's…it's going to be okay. They're going to take you to the hospital but you're okay. I'm gonna be right here." My voice is shaking still. Why can't I just be strong for her? I lean in and give her a kiss on the forehead, and whisper in her ear, "I love you Mom." Some more tears fall then. I feel the soft grasp of an EMT's hand on my shoulder, and a policewoman is gently ushering me away, one of her hands were on my waist, the other on my shoulder. They're being careful. They must've noticed the crutches. They tell me that they have to tend to my mother now, I only nod but I don't want to move. The farther away I get, the more strangers surround my mother, and the more I panic. "Mom!" I whimper loudly. I wish someone were here. My dad. Uncle Nathan. Aunt Brooke. Anyone. I wish my mother didn't leave to buy that stupid milk. I wish I were fast enough to catch up with her so I could warn her.

I stand there helplessly as they strap my mother into a gurney and enter her into the ambulance carefully. This wasn't right. It should've been me. In the end, it's always me, isn't it?

I'm banging on the side of the ambulance door by the passenger side. The ambulance driver just stared at me. "Hey!" I yelled. "What's taking you so fucking long? You need to take my mother to the hospital! NOW!"

"We're going now, Miss. Do you want to ride to the hospital with us?" An EMT had come round the back of the ambulance.

"Of course I do. That's my mom!" The EMT told me I have to sit in the front. I wrench the door open and climb in. The faster I get in, the less time it'll take to get my mother to the hospital. The faster we get there, the faster my mother can get whatever help she might need. I say no, I don't need any help strapping myself in. I'm all too familiar with ambulances by now.

"Miss, you forgot these." The EMT gestured to my crutches that he was holding in his hands.

"Oh." I whisper quietly, and I take them into my grasp. The EMT gives me a sympathetic nod of welcome, shuts the door, and soon we're off. I can't believe this. My mom was meant to go the corner store to buy milk. Milk! Now I'm walking into the Emergency Room of Tree Hill General Hospital. This is ridiculous. Ugh, I hate hospitals. They smell like bad news. But there won't be bad news for my mother. There won't be. Thinking about it has me crying again. With shaking hands, I reached into my pocket for my cell phone and call the first number I can think of.

"Uncle Nathan!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Haley was trying to read a book in bed, but she couldn't stop thinking about Jamie…she couldn't figure out how Jamie had gotten to this point, and why he hadn't told anybody anything…but most of all, as Jamie's mother, why Haley hadn't seen something was off balance, as she always should with her children, and always had up until now. Haley's heart jumped when she heard somebody walk through the front door and mill about the kitchen…Jamie was finally home. Haley heard his footsteps climbing up the stairs, and just as Jamie's figure passed by the doorway in a blur, Haley called out to him. "Jamie! James, come here for a minute. I want to talk to you."

"I'll be there in a second." Haley heard James shut his bedroom door and start blasting his music, and she sighed in defeat, leaning back on her fluffy pillows and shutting her book closed. Haley watched the clock, and when it passed the half an hour mark, she sat up in bed and shouted Jamie's name, once…twice…three times.

The bedroom door opened. "What!"

"Come here!" Haley shouted back. "I want to talk to you."

Not ten minutes later did Jamie slink into his mother's bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Jamie's hands were shoved in his pockets and he had a hard time meeting Haley's concerned gaze. Haley swallowed and heard it travel down her throat. "Sit down with me."

Jamie cleared his throat and sat down next to his mother, his back to her. Haley watched as Jamie's knees bounced up and down in a nervous tick; a habit he and Lucas shared.

"Jamie, can you look at me?"

Jamie didn't move, instead he wiped a hand over his face and his own hand covering his mouth muffled his voice. "I don't want to."

Haley put a hand on Jamie's back but felt him flinch, so she took it away. "Can you tell me what's happened with school? I won't say anything, I'll just listen."

Jamie breathed quite heavily, and tension filled the room to the brim. It was a few minutes before he spoke up.

"Jamie…" Haley pleaded, her delicate brown eyes filling in tears. "Please talk to me, honey. I'm worried." Haley's words dissolved into tears and she quickly made them disappear before her son could see the proof.

"I…. I don't know." Jamie decided softly. Haley saw he was so nervous that he was shaking and it tore her apart. "I get overwhelmed."

"What overwhelms you?"

"I'm not sure. Just everything. I can't sleep at night."

"You might have insomnia." Haley decided, thinking carefully.

"Maybe." Jamie agreed quietly, his voice cracking just the slightest bit. The boy took a deep breath, deciding he was going to tell his mother about the drugs. It was better she find out now than later.

Before Jamie could go on, there was a frantic knock on the door, and Nathan stuck his head in. "Jamie, I need you to come with me. Right now."

"Why?"

"Ask questions later. Get up, now!" Haley and Jamie just stared at Nathan, neither of them moving. Nathan took a deep breath, his mind running in circles. "Peyton just got hit by a car. They're rushing her to the emergency room."

Jamie sat there in shock and Haley sprang out from under her bed covers. "What? Is she OK? What happened?"

Nathan put his hand up to silence all the questions. "Just…Jamie, I need you to come with me so we can find your uncle. Ella can't reach him. Just come with me, calmly, because I need you to drive."

Jamie nodded without rebuttal and left the room to put on his jacket. Nathan was about to follow his son out the door, before remembering that Haley was still pretty much clueless… "Nathan…"

"I don't know anything yet Hales," Nathan told her, "but when I do, you'll be the first to know." Nathan smiled at his wife gently before closing the door.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

They had done all sorts of things to Mom in the ambulance, and it's a miracle that I didn't ask to breathe out of a paper bag. By the time they put Mom in one of those crappy beds in the emergency room, I was even more nervous than I'd ever been. Mom had been given morphine for the pain so she was a little out of it, but she could still hold a conversation if she wanted to. "Ella..." she muttered again, her eyes fluttering open.

I got out of my chair as fast as my body would allow. "Yeah?" All my years as a patient and I remember this if nothing else: people spoke way too loud. I took Mom's hand just as she'd held mine so many times before. I took the cup of water from Mom's bedside and let her take a sip or two, holding the straw close to her lips. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I saw him coming towards me. I think he thought he could pass me so he sped up…" Mom flinched in pain so her sentence was cut short.

"That doesn't make any sense. The guy who saw it all said you didn't get hit, that you just fell back really hard…"

"Feels like a fall," Mom tried lightly, trying to get me to smile but failing miserably. "Did you tell your father?'

Only briefly do I remember calling my father's number….was it even the right number? "No….I don't know…" I remember for sure I called Uncle Nathan, and he said he was on his way.

"You didn't tell your father?" Mom's voice is laced in surprise and something like disappointment.

"Mom, I don't know, OK? I saw you lying there and I lost my mind….maybe I forgot. I'm sure Uncle Nathan's told him by now."

Mom looks at me for a second. I can't tell what she's thinking. "Come here." she motioned with her hand to the empty space on the bed beside her.

"Why?" My body immediately stiffens in my seat, and I can feel my reaction from my toes to the pit of my stomach.

"Because I want to be next to you."

I push to stand on my feet and walk the meager two steps to Mom's hospital bed and sit gently by her side. I'm almost afraid that if I move an inch the wrong way, I'll set off a bunch of buttons and a nurse will come running our way, eventually ending up furious with me. I never cared as much before because I was too doped up on morphine and valium to notice much of anything.

"You're not going to hurt me." Mom said, opening her arms so that I can lean against her. Nobody's bothered to give Mom a hospital gown to change into, so I guess that's a good sign. I leaned against Mom's chest gently and I felt her heart beating against the shell of my ear. Any closer and that heartbeat would become my own. I shut my eyes briefly, determined to remember this sound and what this feels like. Mom's hand was running through my hair, and I couldn't help but think that even now, she's taking care of me. "The first person I thought of was you." I hurriedly wipe the tears from my face but Mom saw. "No crying," she soothed, running her hand down my cheek. "Come on baby...don't cry. I'm fine!"

"You're not fine, you're always so busy taking care of me that there's no one around to take care of you!"

Mom doesn't say anything, just runs her hands over my shoulder. "Honey...it's my job to take care of you."

"You really scared me." I wrap my arms tighter against my mom's thin frame, move so I could hear her heartbeat in the shell of my ear...just to be sure it's still there.

Mom kissed the top of my head. "What would you do without me?"

The answer slips easily from my lips. "Die."

I look up to see my mom trying not to laugh at my nonchalance. "Jeez...I don't believe that."

"It's true."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas was taking care of paperwork at the shop when he looked up to see his nephew run through the door. "Uncle Luke! Thank God. You need to come quick. Peyton got hit by a car!"

Lucas dropped the pen he was holding onto his desk. "What? What're you talking about? How?"

"I don't know, my dad just grabbed me to find you, but I think Ella saw the whole thing." Before Jamie could say another word, Lucas had grabbed his jacket and was on his way to where Jamie's car was running.

"I want to know who did it," Lucas insisted as he strode down the hospital emergency room, "I want to know who hit her."

"In here," Jamie gestured to where his father had entered passed through a doorway. Lucas followed, and his heart slowed when he saw Peyton conscious and alert on that hospital bed.

"Peyton," Nathan breathed gratefully, and for a second Lucas' stomach twisted in envy. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Nate."

"Glad to see you're OK Aunt Peyton," Jamie said, glancing between his aunt and uncle...the tension was suffocating. Jamie subtly nudged his father on the arm. "I'll go get you some more water." Jamie left the room with Nathan right behind him.

"Me too!" Was Ella's reply as she shot up from her chair and scrambled out of the room.

Lucas swallowed and willed his shaky legs to remain still. He was still recovering from the last bout of bad news he received when he was at work. He began to nonsensically circle around Peyton's bed. "You scared me..."

"It was my light," Peyton returned, and for a minute or two they looked at each other.

"I want to find out who this guy is," Lucas said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I want to know who did this. Which precinct were the cops from?"

Peyton shrugged meekly as she felt the pain take another hit. "Does it matter?"

"Peyton, I can't have anything happen to you," Lucas declared, his knees shaking in an odd rhythm as he struggled to keep them still. "I just can't."

Peyton's face softened and she had the strongest urge to reach out and grab her husband's hand. "Luke..."

"You're sitting in a hospital bed," Luke spoke over her, almost in a yell. "You got hit by a car and you're sitting in a hospital bed!" Peyton flinched and let out a gasp in pain, and Luke instinctually stepped towards her. "What?"

Both adults turned to the doorway to see Jamie looking very uncomfortable. "Uh...sorry. Uncle Luke, they want you to fill out some paperwork."

"Do you know why the hell the doctor hasn't been in here yet?" Lucas asked, looking at Peyton one more time.

"No idea."

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

"Weren't you supposed to get my mom some water?" I ask Jamie, who was scuffing his feet on the white tile below.

"Oh, yeah. I asked that guy," Jamie motioned across the hall to the nurses station, where a middle aged man dressed in light blue scrubs was writing down notes, "I can't believe he fucking forgot that she wants more water."

I start laughing. "Jamie, you can't ask that guy: he's a doctor."

"So what?"

"You know how many patients he has to see? He probably forgot. Don't take it so personally. Calm yourself and just get the water from that fountain over there."

As Jamie walked off, my father came over, holding a clipboard piled high with paperwork. I watched as he began to fill out the paperwork, the black ink pen shaking between his fingers...his knee bouncing up and down, and every once in awhile my father would cross out what he wrote down.

"Mom's birthday is August 9th."

"What?"

"You wrote August 19th," I motioned to the paperwork and Dad's messy handwriting.

Dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Shit." he breathed, frantically scraping the pen across the page as the clipboard bounced on his knee. "I'm nervous...do you know your mom's social security number?"

"...No..." I answered him, and I'm biting back my laughter. I hold out my hand for the clipboard and pen. "Here, do you want me to do it?"

"Please!" I laugh only slightly as he shoves the clipboard into my awaiting hands. Dad smiles a half-smile and gets quiet. "Hey...you did good, you know."

"Thanks. I thought I was going to lose it- I almost lost it with the paramedic."

Dad nodded and his eyes were freakishly blue. "I probably would've."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Nathan walked into the room to see his sister-in-law playing a game on her IPhone. "Damn it! I thought Angry Birds was supposed to be a stress-reliever."

"Just makes me really pissed," Nathan countered as he took a seat next to Peyton on the hospital bed. "Do something for me, Sawyer: don't ever get hit by a car again."

"I'll try my best," Peyton said softly, watching as Nathan took her hand.

"Peyton, you know I love you, right? I love you, and I'd do anything for you."

Peyton's eyes filled in tears as she held her brother-in-law's hand. "I know, Nate."

"We don't want to be here without you." Nathan sweetly ran a finger down Peyton's cheek. "So really try, OK?"

Peyton took a deep breath to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. "OK."

"By the way..." Nathan leaned forward and whispered, "my brother's an idiot."

Peyton let out a small laugh. "You talked to him?"

"Yeah...I tried. Just...don't give up on him, all right? Luke may not admit it but he needs you the most right now."

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

"I'm not going!" I insist again, storming into Mom's room, where Uncle Nathan was sitting beside her and holding her hand.

"Ella, your dad told me to tell you that we're gonna take you home," Jamie said, walking through the doorway.

"I know what he said: I'm not going. I'm staying here."

"What's going on?"

"One of the nurses said it's probably gonna be a little while longer before one of the doctors can see Aunt Peyton, and Uncle Luke told me to tell Ella that we should take her home so she can get her rest," Jamie explained.

"What's taking them so long: she hit her head! This is stupid."

"Hey, hey," Uncle Nathan soothed, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Your dad's right, you should get some rest honey."

"I don't want to," I answer stiffly, walking away from my uncle to stand by my mother's bedside. I lose my balance and stumble, and I can feel all the adults in the room react as if I'm made of glass. I sloppily catch myself by grabbing the rails of Mom's hospital bed. "I'm not leaving."

"Don't make me carry you out, Ella..." Jamie threatened, taking a step towards me.

"Screw you, Jamie!"

"Ella!" Mom scolded, reaching out to grab my wrist. Her skin was warm to the touch. "Stop it," she warned. "You have school tomorrow, and you need to go home so you can rest. What're you going to do here?"

"Be with you! I won't be able to sleep knowing that you're here. Mom, I don't want to go," I begged her, crying. "Who's gonna take care of you?"

"I am..." my head turned to see my father walk timidly through the door, his hand on the frame. "I'll be here."

I looked at my mom and she sent me a wink, just to make me feel better.

Uncle Nathan put a gentle hand to my arm. "Come on sweetie, I'll take you home."

"I don't want to stay by myself," I whispered to my mom so only she could hear me.

"I'll stay," Jamie volunteered. "I'll stay with you."

Mom brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "It's going to be OK baby. Thank God I'm OK, and thank God you were there with me."

I took a deep breath but one look into my mother's beautiful face and I just dissolve. "I wanted to tell you I was sorry..."

"Shh," Mom whispers, wiping the tears from my face. "What're you sorry for?"

I grab Mom's hand and place a kiss on her knuckles, before Uncle Nathan and Jamie gently led me away. _Love you_, I mouth to her, before she mouths the same back to me.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I was lying in bed for barely half an hour when Jamie walked in, lying on his belly and playing with my stuffed Minnie Mouse. "What are you doing?"

"I was thinking until you interrupted me." I tell Jamie, turning to my side and and curling my legs underneath me.

"You're laying down in the dark."

"So what?" Suddenly my phone went off in a shrill beep:

_Hey you. I can't sleep. Help me out here!_

I can't even glance at it twice before Jamie takes the phone from my hand. "Who's texting you this late?" Jamie teased, looking at my phone in the darkness, rolling away from me. "Who's Adrian?"

"Gimme that!" I shriek, falling on top of Jamie as I squirmed to try and get the phone from his hands.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Jamie starts to laugh and I can't help but do the same. "Ow!" Jamie yelped as I grabbed the phone from his hands. "You're no fun..." he told me in his pouty voice.

"Go away."

Jamie adjusted himself on my bed and shoved Minnie Mouse under his chin to use as a pillow as he lie on his stomach. "Tell me about your life."

I start laughing again. "What? Are you trying to talk girl?"

"Fuck you," Jamie told me through the outlines of his smile. "I don't know...how are you?"

"I'm fine..."

"What about your parents?"

I stiffen and I'm glad the darkness is covering the both of us. "What about them?"

"What the hell's going on there?"

I lean back on my pillow. "I wouldn't know. Ask 'em."

"Does it bother you?"

"What do you think? I really don't want to talk about this." I turn away from Jamie and bring Eeyore under my arm.

"Why not?" Jamie pesters, coming up behind me and leaning his chin on my shoulder. I don't answer for what seems like forever. "Want to play _Call of Duty?"_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Six hours and a diagnosis of high blood pressure later, Lucas led Peyton through the door of their bedroom. He watched her slow, slow tread to their bed and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Lucas turned away and tried to block out the painful whimpers simply because he couldn't see Peyton suffer in any slowly raised her tee shirt over her head, half undressed. Luke's throat froze up at the smooth skin of her bare back, the curves of her breasts under the dim lamplight.

"I was gonna...go write for a while."

Peyton nodded, and she looked so saintlike, leaning against her white pillow as her hair splayed out behind her like a halo. "You don't want to lie down with me?"

Lucas swallowed and felt an invisible weight lift off his shoulders; he wanted to, so badly, but again he felt that floating feeling, that block, and maybe he just needed something or someone to keep him grounded. Maybe this was it. Lucas took a tentative step toward her, one step forward one step back...

Peyton was watching him, her gaze gentle and loving even after all they had been through, and all they had yet to go through. Peyton swallowed and it seemed like she was going to say, _please_. Instead, she gestured to her victrola across the room and asked, "Can you put music on?"

Lucas nodded, glad to block out the sounds of Peyton's painful whimpers with the sounds of a scratchy record, hoping that the slow piano in the beginning of the track would help her remember.

_Oh my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch_

_A long, lonely time_

_And time, goes by so slowly_

_and time can do so much_

_Are you still mine?_

"I love this song." Peyton's voice floated to Lucas and covered every inch of him, lifting him up like only the best of things could.

"I know." Lucas walked slowly over to his side of the bed and shed his t-shirt, just so they could lie together skin to skin like they used to. Lucas lie his head against the soft pillow, and ever so gently ran his chilled fingertips down Peyton's arm. "There are bruises all over your back," he said ruefully.

Peyton turned off the lamplight and shifted so she was facing her husband. The burning pain was almost too much. "That hurts," she breathed. The pain medicine was starting to kick in and Peyton was beginning to get light headed, but she was conscious enough to wrap her arm around Luke's waist, pulling his warm body closer to hers...Lucas did the same, rubbing his hand up and down her waist.

Lucas buried his face in the soft skin of Peyton's neck, and she let out a moan that sent chills down his back. "I'm sorry...don't ever scare me like that again, Peyt..." Lucas begged, kissing her neck over and over again. The slow, rich voices from the record player filled every corner of the room, covering the lovers like a velvet blanket.

_I need your love_

_I need your love_

_Godspeed your love to me!_

"Won't..." Peyton whispered as her beautiful eyes fought exhaustion. Her face crumpled in pain and she let out several sad cries.

Lucas cuddled closer and relished in the warmth Peyton's legs brought him as their limbs tangled together. "Shh...it's OK," he comforted her, moving her blonde hair away from her face. "It's OK." Lucas lightly pressed a kiss to her nose. "You're going to be a little loopy because of the medicine," he chuckled.

"So I won't remember this?"

Lucas said nothing and watched her for a while, running a finger down her cheek. He wasn't completely and entirely oblivious...he knew how much she ached for the closeness and intimacy they once had. If Lucas was being honest with himself, deep down beneath all of his pain, he needed it too. "I will."

Lucas ran his palm down the side of Peyton's waist, before entwining their hands. They were so close that their naked bodies pressed together and their breaths mingled into one hot mist. "I love you," Peyton breathed before slowly succumbing to sleep. "You love me, right?"

"Of course I do." Lucas gave Peyton's rosy lips a soft kiss. "I love you so much..." He kissed her again in the hopes that maybe she'd sleep better. "Let's never buy milk again. We don't need it."

Peyton didn't answer, but her head slowly fell against Luke's shoulder, and he breathed her in, held her as if his life depended on it. Peyton's deep breathing and the sounds of a scratchy record brought Lucas into sweet sleep.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

My room was pitch black if not for my television. Jamie and I were on the floor on top pillows and blankets, playing video games like the old days; our fingers dancing like mad on the controllers. We were playing multiplayer on COD and we were known to get pretty damn competitive. "Where are you?" Jamie asked, glancing at his radar. "Don't be lame and come out.**"**

"Screw that shit, I'm hiding," I insisted, positioning my player behind a wall and switching it to my shotgun. Not that it would help any: Jamie always tried to snipe me out. That is, until his player appeared out of jesus nowhere and started shooting at me. "Oh, shit!" I squealed, shooting like mad. Jamie's always been better at this than me and he shot my player dead. "Damn it!" I yelled. "I hate you."

"You suck," Jamie teased.

"Shut up! I used to beat you in games all the time: you would just shut off the playstation and dance around acting like it never existed."

Jamie laughed. "Yeah, I was an asshole. Still am, aren't I?"

"Yep."

Jamie checked his watch and suddenly got up from the floor. "OK, kid. I gotta get going."

My heart quickened and the silence petrified me. "How come? I thought you were gonna stay over." I stood up from the floor by pushing hard on my mattress.

"I can't." I switched on the light and that did very little to calm my nerves.

"Jamie-" I say, grabbing onto his wrist. "Can't you stay for a little longer?"

"I can't, Ella. Your mom's fine, your parents are here. Just text that Adrian guy; you'll be fine. Love you!" Before I could respond, Jamie disappeared.

A while later, I gently padded down the quiet hallway and came past my mom's room. Holding my breath, I turned the handle and looked inside. The window's blinds were drawn slightly open, revealing Mom's solitary form under the twilight lights. Mom lay curled up in worry like a shrimp, the covers wrapped around her thin frame. I could see the bruises on her back from here, and even worse: I could hear Mom whimpering in pain...softly, I could hear it.

Tears stung my eyes, and with shaking knees I backed out of the room before Mom woke. Where the hell did my father go off to now? "Are you kidding me?" I whispered harshly under my breath. Anger rushed through every fibre of my body, freezing my veins. I found myself stumbling to the bathroom. I turned on the strong overhead light and it burned me, but even more I burned with the desire to feel. Maybe if I could feel pain too...everything else would be less. I rummaged through the bathroom cabinets, and briefly ran my thumb over the blade of my razor. It would be so easy to just take the blade and run it down both my wrists, watch the blood spill and stain the tiled floor, and I could bathe in it.

Ryan Hayes' face appeared in my head, and I dropped the razor immediately. He took the easy way out...I won't. I won't. If I did, I couldn't be with my mom...I couldn't be with my best friends...I couldn't send Adrian a text message.

I grabbed my bottle of mint listerine, unscrewed the cap, and poured the listerine into a paper cup. I took a breath and brought it to my lips, sloshing the listerine around in my mouth, every corner, until my cheeks filled in color and tears stung my eyes. My knees shook and I spit the listerine out harshly, watching the blue liquid stain the white porcelain sink. My cheeks and my eyes were blotched red, and they were going to stay that way for a while. I couldn't bring myself to care. I leaned against the sink, my muscles burning as they tried to keep me upright. Only when I heard a crash from downstairs did I stand on alert.

I tread downstairs carefully, and to my surprise my dad's office door was open. I stayed as silent as I could, peeked through the door and watched. Dad was sitting at his desk and he was surrounded by broken glass. He sat there trying to unscrew a bottle of alcohol and failing miserably. He cursed loudly, before reaching for another glass and dropping it, letting it fall from his weak grip.

I held my breath and watched even though I shouldn't have.

_-x-_

_September 1st, 2026_

_It was windy. It was windy and the sky was a gross, ugly gray. Lucas had met up with Ryan on the River Court and they'd been playing for the past hour, catching up before the new school year began. "I can't believe you're a senior."_

_"I know, shit is crazy." Ryan started laughing when he saw his coach do the same. "What?"_

_"You are excessively tan, Ryan: you look like a Native American!" Lucas said in a smile, holding a basketball to his hip. "You gotta be careful with all that exposure."_

_"Beach volleyball!" Ryan exclaimed. "It's not my fault that it was so beautiful out: I had to make it the best summer of my life."_

_"Did you?"'_

_Ryan smiled, a gleam in his blue eyes. "Yeah. I think so." Ryan watched his coach bounce the ball a few times, felt the wind on his skin... "Hey, Coach: I just wanted to say thanks for all you've done for me. Nobody has ever believed in me like you have."_

_"Don't thank me yet; we still have to get you to college." Lucas watched Ryan for a second and in a way he smiled almost doubtfully. "What's brought this on?"_

_Ryan shrugged, "Nothing. Just felt like telling you." The boy smirked his signature smirk and made a basket, watching wistfully as the ball sailed through the net...so was the biggest lie the boy had ever told._

_-x-_

Lucas woke in a start and a gasp, and it took him a few moments to realize he was in his bedroom and Peyton was fast asleep beside him. His half naked body was drenched in his own sweat and he was shivering even though the heat was on.

_I had to make it the best summer of my life_, was one of the last things Ryan ever said to him. Lucas ran a hand over his face and tried to deafen his own echoes. He planned it; he had to have planned it. _Why didn't you help me?_ Lucas quickly shrugged the bedcovers off his shaking body. This wasn't the first night this happened, where Lucas heard Ryan's voice and saw him in the room, felt him around. This wasn't the first night, but Lucas was determined to make it the last night...he just needed something to block it out. It wasn't his fault. Ryan made his choice and had made it a long time ago. It wasn't his fault.

Right?

Lucas quickly made his way downstairs to his office for a new bottle of Jack Daniels he kept in his desk. He unscrewed the cap an poured shot after shot after shot, coughing when it got too much. In Luke's haste he accidentally knocked over a glass, sending it crashing to the floor. That was no matter: he'd get a new one.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Jamie walked through the front door of his house, and to his dismay saw his parents in the living room, clearly waiting for him. The only reason he was home was because Andre texted him about some party at Chuck Skolnick's house, so Jamie went home to get a few things. Andre "advised" him to bring a backpack full of alcohol, a tent, and a sleeping bag. Jamie noticed his parents staring. "What?"

"Sit down for a second, Jamie," Haley urged, patting the space on the couch. Nathan sat directly across from her in the navy blue armchair. "We want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"What do you think?" Nathan snapped. It was obvious he'd been quelling his anger for Peyton and Ella's sakes. In actuality, Nathan hadn't spoken a word to his son all evening. "Sit down, please."

Jamie sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, before traipsing onto the couch next to his mother. If only he hadn't left Ella's house.

"Why were you selling drugs in your dormroom, James?" Nathan asked, his voice eerily calm. "Don't tell me you don't know: you do know. I'm only going to ask you this once. We need an answer."

Jamie looked down at his shoes, saying a silent prayer. "I wasn't selling," he revealed shakily.

"Who was, then?"

"My roommate. It was Spencer. It was Spencer, I just covered up for him."

"Why?" Nathan shouted, as Haley revealed...

"Oh my God, Jamie...why would you do something like that?"

"Spencer was really struggling with his classes, and they were threatening to take away his full scholarship..." Jamie cried, his whole body trembling. "He needed the money to pay for room and board and his books. When they found out, Spencer came to me and begged-"

Nathan shot up from his chair. "So what! That isn't your life! That's his life! If Spencer wants to fuck around, that's his problem!"

"Yeah," Haley agreed, and tears filled her eyes. "You don't ever sacrifice for anything or anyone!"

"OK, Mom-" Jamie held up his hands, crying.

"I'm going to call the administration at William & Mary tomorrow and see what I can do," Nathan decided.

"No!" Jamie begged. "No, don't. I still failed."

Nathan stared at his son, his gaze hard and cold. "Oh my God, James! Are you out of your FUCKING mind! Why would you sabotage this? Did I raise a moron?"

"Nathan..."

"I don't want your money to fix everything!" Jamie shouted, standing from the couch. Nathan was still taller than him. "I don't want your money, I don't want any of it! Fuck this." Jamie hissed, moving past his parents to escape through the front door. Jamie's steps quickened when he heard his father advancing on him.

"You're not going anywhere," Nathan snarled, grabbing his son by the cuffs and slamming Jamie against the door so hard his head was ringing, thereby cornering him in a fit of rage.

"What are you doing!" Haley screamed, grabbing Nathan's arm to pull him away.

"JAMIE!"

Only then did Nathan turn to see Haley crying, and his youngest son Matthew sobbing at the top of the wide staircase. Nathan felt his body shaking, his heart pounding, and in James' angry eyes, he saw himself. Nathan's body went limp, and he dropped his grasp before backing up, heaving and not saying a word.

"Are you CRAZY!" Haley screeched, hitting Nathan's arm hard. "What is wrong with you! Jamie, are you OK?"

"I'm sorry Son," Nathan breathed, a good six feet away from James. "Christ, I'm sorry..."

The words stayed in Jamie's throat, tears staining his face. His head was ringing from being banged against the door so hard. He hurriedly got through the door and drove off as fast as he could in his navy blue, used car.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-_

James walked into Chuck's house by Wrightsville Beach, intending to get piss drunk. He had texted _Are we ok?__ I miss you._ to Clara hours ago and she hadn't responded. She didn't know about his aunt getting hit by a car, didn't know much of anything.

The house was milling with drunkards everywhere, and Chuck was too busy playing beer pong to say hello. James saw an always calm Andre in the crowd and that did something for his nerves. "What's up?" Andre asked his best friend. "Damn. What happened to you? You look like hell." Andre handed Jamie a cup of something really fucking strong and Jamie drowned it in one gulp. "Maybe you should see Clara."

Jamie perked up and he abandoned the alcohol. "Clara's here? Where?"

"I saw her go upstairs a while ago, alone. Go talk to her. Come back and be normal Jamie again." Andre patted his friend on the shoulder and watched him head for the stairs.

Jamie bounded down the hallway, brightening when he heard Clara's wonderful laugh. He walked through the closed door and stopped instantly, his hand on the doorknob. Sitting on the bed was Clara making out and sucking the face off some douchebag. "What the HELL is this?" Jamie yelled, startling Clara enough to make her push the guy off of her. "What the fuck is this, Clara? Jamie shouted louder, gesturing to the tool on the bed. "Who the fuck is this guy, huh?"

"Jamie, I can explain!" Clara shouted, tears in her eyes.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Jamie mumbled, stumbling out of the room and walking quickly down the hallway, practically falling down the stairs.

"Jamie, wait!" Clara begged, running down the stairs after him. She put a hand on Jamie's arm, but he shrugged it off.

"How long has this been going on?" Jamie asked. Clara was barefoot and wearing shorts, and her top was hanging off her shoulder. Jamie always said this was his favorite look on her, hair up messily without makeup. It made her look human. "THREE YEARS, Clara! I've loved you for three years! Did that mean anything to you? How could you do this to me?"

By now the crowd around them had quietened, and both Chuck and Andre stood behind Clara, both men completely shocked.

"I...I don't know what to say..." Clara tried, crying.

Jamie scoffed, his eyes widening. "_Fuck_ you!"

Clara pressed a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God. Jamie..."

"No, fuck you!" Upon seeing everyone's disbelief, Jamie turned to run out. All but Andre ran after him into the night.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas had a wet washcloth pressed against his face as he lay flat on his back on the couch in his library. The lights were dimmed, but he felt a migraine coming. At least he was sobering up. Lucas' sanctuary was ruined when Peyton bounded through his unlocked door.

"Lucas!"

"What!" Lucas said, startled by her outburst. He shot up from the couch and saw Peyton was wrapped in a robe and a teary mess. "What's going on?"

"Where's Ella?" Peyton cried.

"I don't know," Lucas answered in fear. "I thought she was asleep!"

"No! Oh my God, she's not here!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Song playing on Peyton's record player was _"Unchained Melody" _by the Righteous Brothers._ Favorite_ part? Review! They keep me going. _


	10. Chapter 9

_Chapter __Nine_

"Peyton, I thought she was asleep," Lucas swore, "I didn't hear anything." Lucas reached for his phone from his pocket and dialed Ella's number, doing his best to remain calm when he thought he'd break into a million pieces.

"Of course you didn't," Peyton snapped, fixing the front of her robe. She rapidly sped up the stairs for a third time, thinking maybe she missed Ella in a hidden corner.

"What does that mean?" Lucas asked, trying to keep up as he looked throughout the house, turning on every single light on his journey up, up. With every step, Lucas watched as Peyton shook more and more, morphed into a beautiful antique vase waiting to be shattered.

"Where is she?" Tears were falling down Peyton's face as her black satin robe fell delicately off right shoulder. "Where is she! Somebody could've-"

"No, don't say that, you don't know that," Lucas protested, re-dialing Ella's number for the fourth time: no answer. Lucas held onto the railing of the stairwell: if somebody pushed him with just their index finger, down he would fall down to the bottom.

"Lucas, if something happenned to my daughter I'm going to be hysterical," Peyton cried.

Lucas sighed heavily and dialed Ella's number _again_, this time leaving a message: "Ella, this is your father. I'm going to keep calling until you pick up." Lucas looked up to see Peyton nearly crumbling, wiping her cheeks every few seconds. "Did you look in her room? Were her windows closed?"

"Yeah," Peyton answered, the words trembling in her throat. "How could you not hear her?"

"I didn't," Lucas swore, half distracted by dialing Ella's number again. "Of course I didn't, right?"

Peyton laughed humorlessly. "Well God knows what the hell you're doing locked up in your office."

"I was trying to write, Peyton," Lucas answered steadily, although his nerves were beginning to fail him. "Don't accuse me of something I didn't do."

"It's not something you didn't do, it's something you're doing!"

"Do you really want to argue now? Ella ran out on us, and you want to fight with me?" Lucas yelled, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

By the time I reached the end of my block, I wanted to turn back. But what would that do? This crazy carousel would keep spinning until it made me too nauseous to breathe the right way. My phone went on buzzing inside my jacket pocket; I know who's calling so I don't bothering answering. Let him worry about me for a little while...let him see how it feels when my mother is up half the night waiting for him and his drunken stupor. I wanted to answer my phone after the fourth call and yell into it, or throw it across the sidewalk and watch it break into pieces for all I fucking care.

I wait about fifteen minutes in the blue black cold, my jacket half unzipped and falling off my shoulder, my pajama pants dragging along my ankles and getting ripped at the edges. My palms are curled around the handles of my crutches and I can feel the blisters forming on my skin. Finally, her steps a distant echo, grow louder as she answers the door. She's in a Westover tee shirt and pants, her hair is in a messy ponytail, and she's so tired her eyes can't open all the way. I've decided in that second, I've never been happier to see her than right now at 3am.

"Hey stranger," I tell her, and it sounded so much stronger in my head. My own voice betrays me, cracking against my throat as my face burns in tears. She's never seen me cry.

"...Hey," she answers cautiously, "What are you doing here?'

I say nothing, my knees about to give out, but it's my tears that rush me into her arms. I remember the first time we ever hugged: third grade, before Thanksgiving. She was wearing this purple blouse that felt fuzzy against my arms.

"No, no no!" she pleaded desperately, her hand on my back. She's fully alert now, I can tell by the way she's holding me up. "What happened?" Before I can answer, she gently led me inside, guiding me with her hand through the darkness. I'm hit with a gust of air, and everything's warm again. We sit on the foot of her staircase and in the midst of the heavy silence, I tell my best friend everything. Well, almost everything.

"Catherine?" We both turn when when we heard Catherine's father Sean. He's wearing a light gray tee shirt and blue flannel pajama pants to compliment his teal eyes; he doesn't look too angry, but he looks concerned. "Girls...what's going on?"

"Nothing, Dad," Catherine answers. She then turns to me and offers her hand. "Here...let's just go to my room."

I say nothing and we both slink past Sean quietly until we reach Catherine's bedroom. She recently repainted her walls to a light shade of raspberry and her walls were covered in band posters, her bookshelves piled high with books. I took a seat in Catherine's desk chair while she sat on the edge of her bed. We sat in silence for a while, until Catherine said, "I'm really glad your Mom's OK."

"Me too." I take a sip of the water Catherine brought for me before letting the rest of this weight fall from my chest. "It's just frustrating...my dad's forgotten about us. Ryan wasn't even his kid; I'm his kid." I watch as Catherine moved her hair away from her face, and I couldn't take all the silence, all the not-talking, all the feelings and all the not-talking. "I'm sitting here pouring my heart out to you, and you're not going to say anything?" Catherine will forever and always, be my listener.

Catherine sighed and put her weight on her palms as she swayed her legs back and forth. "I mean...honestly..."

"Yes, honestly."

"I understand why you're upset... but Ryan committed suicide and your dad was mentoring him: I think your dad has a right to be upset. Imagine how guilty he must feel." A pause or two, "Please don't be mad at me for saying that."

I spin around a few times in Catherine's desk chair before facing her again. "In being upset, or depressed or whatever, he's completely neglected us. My mom is nothing to him."

"I don't think that's true. Stop spinning around, it's distracting."

I come to a stop and swallow through my dizziness. "Yes it is true," I answered firmly.

Catherine didn't answer right away. "Maybe you should talk to him. How do you know he's depressed?"

"Oh, come on-" I'm cut off by Catherine's I-Phone ringing and I watch as she shuffles around for it in her ruffled bedsheets.

"It's your mom."

"Don't answer it," I tell her right away. "Don't."

Catherine stares at me and I keep her gaze, daring her to call my bluff. She rolls those teal green eyes of hers before answering the call. Damn it! "Hello? Hi, Peyton. Is everything OK?"

I quickly reach for a blank piece of paper and a purple sharpie from Catherine's desk, writing _I'M NOT HERE! _in huge capital letters.

"Ella? Yeah she's here," Catherine answered. "She's fine, I'm just about to strangle her. Don't worry. Ok, I will. Bye." Catherine hung up the phone, reached for her pillow, and slung it at me.

I ducked and the pillow flew over my head. "What the hell! I told you not to answer it."

"She was crying, stupid ass! Of course I was going to answer it."

"How do you know she was crying before you even answered the phone?" I asked, smirking.

"Oh fuck you," Catherine answered. "I couldn't just lie."

I reach to rub the stress from my eyes and my head has never felt so heavy. "Cath...it's not that I'm mad, it just makes me look like an asshole because it seems like I don't care about Ryan."

"Well, do you?"

"Of course."

"I agree. I think you care; that's the person you are."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Brooke burst through Peyton and Luke's front door with Natalie and the twins in tow. Jullian was in LA, so that meant Brooke had to get three grumpy kids in the car all by herself so that she could drive, unhinged, to see her best friend. When Brooke answered the phone, all she heard was Peyton sobbing; Brooke immediately got up, threw on pants and Jullian's UCLA sweatshirt, woke up her kids, and drove on over.

Brooke walked through the foyer to see Peyton and Lucas standing feet apart in the kitchen. "Peyton!" she shouted, her heart pounding out of her ribs. "What's going on?"

Peyton burst into tears. "I can't find Ella!"

"What?" Brooke asked, dropping her purse on the kitchen counter. "Oh my God; What do you mean? Where did she go?"

"I don't know! I woke up to get water and I passed by her room; she wasn't there!" Peyton was barely understandable, and Brooke reached over to wipe the tears from her face, nodding to keep up.

Brooke looked around to see what Lucas had to say, but he left the room.

"Mom?" Natalie was leaning against the wide doorway, her beautiful hazel eyes filled in worry. "What's wrong with Aunt Peyton?"

"Nothing, baby," Brooke answered, clearly flustered. "Go back to sleep and make sure your brothers don't wake up. Everything's going to be OK, sweetheart."

"But..."

"Natalie, go," Brooke commanded, ferocity flowing from her lips with ease. Only when Natalie shrunk from the room did Brooke turn back to a nearly destroyed Peyton. "Did you call you the police? You have to." Brooke quickly fished in her purse for her cell phone.

"To report my daughter missing?" Peyton sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

"Yes," Brooke answered calmly even though her knees were shaking. As she dialed 911, Lucas spoke and the room turned to him.

"Ella's crutches aren't by the door; they're gone. I think she ran."

"To where?" Peyton yelled.

"I don't know! This is the first time she's ever pulled this!"

"OK," Brooke pleaded, holding her hand up in between the couple. If she didn't know how bad things were, she did now. "Peyton, did you try her friends? What about Katie?"

"Nobody answered," Peyton replied; her voice hoarse and scratchy.

"What about her other friend? The girl from Westover...what's her name?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Jamie!" Andre jogged away from the beach house to catch up with his best friend, who was walking away with steam coming out of his heels. "Hold on!"

In the middle of the night, Jamie approached his car and reached for the keys in his pockets, but Andre grabbed them. "What the fuck, Andre? I only had one drink. Give me my keys."

"No," Andre insisted. "You're not in your right mind right now, man."

"Give me my keys," Jamie demanded, holding out his palm. Andre didn't move and Jamie took a step closer. "Give me my keys so I can get as far away from that _cunt_ as fast as possible!" Jamie shouted, his voice echoing through the chilly, salty sea air.

"Damn, Jamie. This isn't you."

"No? Why? Because I'm supposed to be _FUCKING PERFECT_? Is that why?"

"Because you're acting like a dick!" Andre shouted back, pushing Jamie against his car to restrain him. Even though Jamie was really strong, Andre was stronger and fought off his resistance.

"My girlfriend cheats on me, and I'm a dick?" Jamie shouted, keeping his distance from Andre and straightening up. "Did you know about this?"

"What the hell are you talking about? I found out when you found out." Andre shook his head and took a moment to catch his breath; Jamie did the same. "I'm sorry."

Breathing harshly, Jamie shut his eyes, and opened them again. Nope. Still in hell. For the briefest of seconds, Jamie felt like crying: he swallowed it like he did the threat of nausea. His cell phone began ringing, and he almost threw it thinking it was Clara calling to apologize. Jamie went on alert when he saw it was his third call from his uncle. "Hey Uncle Luke," he answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Andre watched cautiously as Jamie stiffened and his eyes filled with concern over the call. "What happened?"

"I need my goddamn keys; Ella is missing."

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

Catherine and I made the ten minute walk to my house not saying much at all. Our conversations tend to suck the life out of us. Sometimes, we say all we need to say, and we can just be around each other. "Katie is acting really weird," I tell Catherine, navigating the sidewalks through the darkness. The heels of Catherine's boots are a presence next to my Converse.

"How so?"

"I don't know how to explain it...she's dodging my calls and keeps canceling our plans. The other day, when I tried to catch up with her, she pretty much blew me off."

Catherine and I looked both ways before crossing the desolate street. We were just two or more blocks away from my house. My pounding heart had returned. "Well, when has she _not_ been flaky?"

My thoughts were racing too fast for me to pay any attention to where I was going, so I tripped on my own feet, kicking the crutches too far to catch my fall. I crashed down to the concrete, smashing my right elbow and the right side of my head. "Ow," I gritted through my teeth. I heard Catherine's worried gasp miles away. Oh, somebody fucking shoot me. How can anyone take me seriously if I'm constantly flailing around like somebody hopped on Speed? I cover my face with my hand, but it's no use.

"Are you OK?" Catherine asked, crouching by my side. She moves my hand away from my face.

"Yeah," I answer harshly. "Am I bleeding?"

"I can't tell."

Knowing my luck, I probably am. I take a deep breath as I move to lie on my back, rip the crutches from my wrists, and stare at the night sky above my head. There's millions of stars up there, and I begin at number one.

Catherine interrupts me at 15. "Why don't we get off the street. This isn't _The Notebook._"

"I kind of want to lie here."

"Yeah...that's not a good idea."

"Why not?" I ask, staring up at my best friend. I can't see her face that well, but I can see those eyes of hers.

"I don't know, maybe because a car could come and kill you."

I start to laugh. "You see any cars around here?"

Catherine huffed a breath of air. "You are such a pain in the ass!" She crouched down and lie on her back beside me, and our shoulders touched. "What are we looking at?"

"The sky," I breathed with a smirk. "Fool."

"Bite me," Catherine returned. We lay there for a minute or two, feeling the soft breeze and hearing the soft songs of the insects in hiding. "I think we may be totally and completely insane."

"Probably." I turn to Catherine and I grab her hand. "Thanks for answering the door tonight."

** "**You're welcome," Catherine answered softly, in a stolen moment of honesty that was for once unmarked from her biting sarcasm.

"I really don't want to go home to World War III."

"You'll be fine," Catherine answered, squeezing my hand. Her skin felt soft against the rough gravel. "You've been in World War III all your life, haven't you?"

That was certainly a good way of putting it. "I guess." I swallowed the threat of tears and felt it stick to my throat. "You'll still be on my side, though, right?"

"Obviously."

We lay on the street together until I started humming old eighties kicks, then Catherine told me to stop singing. To which I said, "Seriously, if a car comes right now, we're fucked."

"Yeah, no shit."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What happened?" Jamie asked his uncle, Andre at his heels.

"You're going to help me find Ella," Lucas answered, pulling a gray jacket over his shoulders and grabbing his car keys. "She couldn't have gone far." Lucas led his nephew and Andre out the door before he had to hear more of Peyton crying.

"Where are you going?" Peyton called from the kitchen, very nearly putting all her weight on Brooke. Her pain from the car incident caught up with her, and jolts of discomfort surged up her back. "God," she breathed, and she leaned against the counter.

"What's the matter!" Brooke shrieked, putting her hand on Peyton's back. Brooke gently sat Peyton on a stool by the counter.

"Nothing, I...I got hit by a car earlier," before Brooke could react Peyton went on, "I'm fine, I just...I have high blood pressure. This isn't helping."

"Oh my God, honey! Why didn't you call me?"

"I did," Peyton said, crying. "To tell you I couldn't find my baby!"

Everyone in the house froze in their spots when they heard a key trying to unlock the front door.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I unlocked the door to see my mother and Aunt Brooke sitting in the kitchen, and Natalie and the twins sleeping on the couch in the living room. Catherine was right behind me, and it gave me strength. Mom jumps up from her seat like lightning and I know I'm in for it. Pray for me.

"Hey! Where the _hell _were you!" Mom yells, and I flinch. I turn towards Natalie and the twins and I walk into the kitchen so we don't wake them.

"I'm sorry." I see Mom's tear-stained face and my steps towards her are cautious.

"Damn right you're sorry," Mom seethed. Her body is trembling; I don't think I've ever seen her this angry. Aunt Brooke is standing silent next to my mom and I can tell Catherine feels _really _uncomfortable. "How could you be such an idiot?"

"I think I'm gonna...go," Catherine tried meekly, gesturing to the door.

"I'll drive you home, honey," Aunt Brooke offered. My eyes widened in Aunt Brooke's direction and she caught it, like she catches everything because she's just that smart. "In a few minutes."

"Sure," Catherine answers. She passes her palm along her back, and turns to sit in the sitting room by my sleeping cousins.

I watch as Aunt Brooke closes the pocket door between the kitchen and dining room. Catherine and the kids are now sealed off from battle zone; and apparently Aunt Brooke is on a suicide mission. "Do I need to go, or can I stay to make sure you two don't kill each other?"

"I don't know; ask her."

Mom's eyes widened "Ella! Where the hell do you get off thinking that it's okay to sneak out at three in the morning?"

I cross my arms and my knees start to tremble. "I don't know, maybe since my father's practically an alcoholic."

Aunt Brooke's eyes widen in shock. "Hey..."

"No he isn't," Mom protested, and I see the tears lining her eyes.

"You need a wake-up call then," I argue, my voice rising. "He's medicating himself with booze and comes home drunk every night!"

"No, he doesn't!" Mom shouted. Any listening ears melted away, and only my mother and I remained.

"Oh my God, Mom! You're in denial."

"Ella,_ shut up," _Mom demanded tearfully, her hand curled in a tight fist.

"No! I won't! Dad was trying to get drunk when I left. How can you not see what's RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!" My vocal chords strain with every word that rushes past my lips. It takes all my restraint not to grab Mom's vase on the counter and shatter it to pieces.

"Ella," Aunt Brooke tries calmly. My cheeks redden in shame and I want to run away again. "You need to just take a deep breath."

I take a deep shuddering breath that makes me want to collapse. I see my mother is so upset, so I take a small step towards her. My muscles are burning in an effort to keep me upright but I fight through it.

"You were scared to death something happened to her, and now she's here," Aunt Brooke soothed, gently running her hand up my mother's back. "Now she's here, and everything's fine. Everybody's home safe."

"Mom..." I tried, taking another step towards her.

"Ella, go to your room," Mom spat at me, her green eyes burning in fury.

"Mom, I just..."

"Ella Grace, I swear to God!" Mom shouted, standing from the seat even though it pained her to do so.

I cowered back and retraced my steps, walking through the pocket doors to the sitting room. The kids hadn't stirred, and Catherine looked up from her phone, concerned as ever. "Sorry," I breathed, letting a few tears fall as I bounded up the stairs; knowing Catherine couldn't follow me.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas had gotten a text from Brooke that led him to return to his home after nearly hyperventilating in his car. The house was empty, except for where Peyton stood in the kitchen wiping down the white marble countertop. Lucas hesitated but eventually stepped into the kitchen. "She's OK?"

"She's so grounded," Peyton answered, wetting the rag and wiping the counter's edges.

"Did she say why she ran off?" Lucas probed gently, stepping closer to Peyton.

Peyton chuckled humorlessly before tossing the rag aside. She knew she shouldn't have, but seeing Ella in so much pain enraged the fire within her bones and she soon ignited. "Were you drinking tonight?"

Lucas furrowed his brows and felt his body stiffen. "What does that-"

"Answer me," Peyton demanded icily. "Were you drinking tonight?"

"Yes," Lucas answered angrily, "Yes, I was."

"You need to stop," Peyton said. "Are you even supposed to be drinking with your HCM medications? Don't lie to me."

"I haven't said anything!"

"I've seen the bottle of alcohol in your desk. What was it tonight? Vodka? Whiskey? Rum?"

Lucas shook his head; every answer was a wrong one. He turned on his heels to get out of the room before the yelling really began.

"Lucas, don't you dare walk away!" Peyton screamed, slamming dirty plates to the counter and following him.

"Do you really want me to stay and tell you that I've been drinking to numb this feeling in my stomach that keeps me from even looking at myself?" Lucas shouted, his fists curling and uncurling on tempo.

"It's better than you shutting me out!"

"Fine," Lucas swore through gritted teeth. "I can't _look _at myself in the mirror without wanting to rip my lungs out with my bare hands."

Peyton breathed out and her shoulders slumped down like a deflated balloon when it lost its shape. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" Lucas asked, and Peyton swore she heard his voice breaking.

"Luke...what happened with Ryan isn't your fault."

"But it's true," Lucas said, and he felt a few tears fall down his face. He let out a deep breath and his shoulders fell. "It's true." Lucas wiped his tears away with his left thumb and blinked quickly. "I'm gonna...go see Ella."

"Lucas," Peyton said, but Lucas turned and headed for the stairs.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

My I-Pod died, so I couldn't drown out the sounds of my parents screaming at each other with music. I pulled my covers over my head, hoping to suffocate. But even that couldn't block out the sounds of somebody knocking on my door. "Ella? ….. It's your dad."

My father sounds so sad through the door, and my knees begin to shake under the covers. Is he gonna want me to open the door? Oh God. "I'm changing," I lie, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand.

"...Ok," Dad answered. "Ella, you really scared us," his voice floated through the door like a feather. A few minutes of silence, I've turned away from the door and curled up like a shrimp, rocking my knees to my chest. "I love you, sweetheart."

I bite onto my pillow to keep from sobbing out loud. I shut my eyes and wait through the thick quiet, until my father's soft footsteps disappeared, and he was gone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I must've been staring out my window for an hour or so, watching the way the moon poked through the trees and onto us. I wonder if that's Ryan's way of saying hi. I find myself praying that Ryan keeps an eye on my dad, somehow, someway. I turn when I hear the sounds of something in the lock of my door; the door opens and my mom comes through. "Mom!" I say, sitting up on alert. "The door was locked; how did you do that?" Mom doesn't answer, instead closes the door behind her. She's changed from her robe to one of Dad's old shirts that reaches to right above her knees. "I'm trying to sleep."

Mom crawled under the covers next to me, grabbing my hand and making sure I faced her. "I want to know why you ran off and scared me half to death."

"I already told you," I answered plainly, trying to break from her gaze.

"Don't you _ever _do it again," Mom told me, her voice cracking with tears. "If something happened to you...do you know what that would've done to me?"

"You're hurting my hand," I said quietly, pulling my hand from her grasp. She was holding it so hard she was bruising it. "I said I was sorry." Mom took my injured hand and brought it to her lips for a kiss, before pulling me into a hug against her chest. She rocked me back and forth in her lap, and I blinked back tears. "I'm just worried about my dad."

Mom let out a breath of air and brushed the hair from my temple to kiss me there. "I know, baby," she answered gently. I could hear the tears in her voice, too. Mom brought me to lie back against my pillow, and we lay together in the darkness.

"I think he may be depressed," I said, my voice quivering. A few tears leaked onto my pillow.

Mom doesn't say anything for a few seconds, but they drag on like nothing else. "I think you're right."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I wake up from a strong stream of sunlight pouring through my window. Mom's sound asleep beside me. After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I fumble for my alarm clock and turn it toward me to check the time. My eyes widen in shock, I mumble a stream of curses before pushing the covers off my exhausted body. "Mom! Wake up!" I gently shake Mom awake. "Mom!"

"What's wrong?" Mom asks, her eyes half opened.

"My alarm didn't go off! It's 9am!" I shriek, shrugging out of my pajama pants and reaching for a pair of jeans from my walk-in closet.

Mom got up as if he life depended on it. "9am! Oh my God, I'm so late! I'm supposed to be at my office _now!" _

"How could Dad not wake me!" I pull a red tee shirt over my head with a black American Eagle zip-up hoodie. "Hurry up! I need you to drive me; I have a presentation in an hour!" Never mind that I'm running on a few hours of sleep and I have circles under my eyes for days, I need to be ready to roll in Angela's class at five after 10. I stop for just a second to look in my full length mirror. "Oh great, I look like crap." I pull black Annie Klein boots over my feet.

"You don't look like crap," Mom protests from the doorway of her bedroom.

"How can you say that if you're not even in the damn room!" I shouted, trying to bite back my laughter.

"If Adrian likes you, he should like you no matter what you wear," Mom replies, changing into her work attire; a black and white dress with heels, and a charcoal gray overcoat to match.

I walk into the hallway with color filling my cheeks. "That is _so not _what this is about!" I yell, a smile on my face for the first time since last night.

Mom and I get into her Comet in record time, and before Mom fires up the engine, her and I turn to where we heard yelling coming from the Nowell house. We look at each other warily, and then Katie storms through the front door and down the stoop, without her usual cheery _good morning_ that came our way.

Julie appeared in the doorway. "Katie! Don't walk away from me!" she yelled louder than I ever thought she could. Julie stood and watched Katie run off, before slamming the door shut without even acknowledging us.

"Should we go get her?" Mom wondered, putting her car in drive and pulling away from the curb.

"She's already half way down the block," I answered, pulling my favorite shades over my eyes. "I'll see her at school."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I stormed through Angela's classroom with a few minutes to spare. Everybody was buzzing about and Angela was busy trying to set up a projector on her whiteboard.

"Hey," Adrian greeted, flipping through a pile of index cards; he looked distressed. "Did you just get here?"

"Kind of," I answered in a breath, ripping open my bag and reaching for my folder. My legs felt like jelly as my sleeplessness caught up with me. The buzz all around me got louder, and my knees gave out. I dropped my folder to the floor, sending papers scattering all over the place. I cursed and backed out of the noisy classroom and across the hallway into the bathroom.

I stumbled over to the sink, my head pounding and blood rushing down my legs like a current. I turned on the faucet, letting the freezing water run over my fingers to numb them. All the events of last night fell over me like an anvil; it's a miracle I haven't collapsed. I splash the water over my face and the coldness bites me. I look up to see Adrian on the other side of the room, leaning against the door and watching me. Just that is enough to get my heart racing like nothing ever went wrong.

"This is the girl's bathroom," I say.

"Yeah," Adrian answers, shoving his hands in his pockets and crossing his ankles. "But you ran in here."

"Im sorry," I tell him, wiping a paper towel over my face. "I'm really distracted. I just need a second."

"Ok."

Adrian and I, we've only known each other for a few weeks, almost a month, and we've already shared some of our deepest insecurities, kissed on a rooftop, and now he's seen me be vulnerable. I've been under the knife three times, taken more physical pain than anyone else I know...and yet the idea of being vulnerable with a boy scares me half to _death._

"You don't have to stand there," I snapped, looking at him through the mirror.

Unfazed, Adrian pushed off from the door and walked across the bathroom to stand next to me. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing...I just...I had a crazy few hours..." I look up to see Adrian's warm gaze so I just blurt it out. "My mom got hit by a car last night," I tell him, tears entering my eyes.

Adrian steps towards me and I just want to fall into his arms. "Jesus Christ," he breathed. "Is she OK?"

"Yeah, yeah she's fine. It just could've been really bad. I could've...lost my best friend," I whisper, my lips quivering. I cover my face with my hand to hide my tears. "Sorry..."

"Why are you saying sorry?" Adrian wondered, his hand on my forearm.

"I don't...know how to do this," I tell him, wiping at my tears. No way in hell am I letting him see me cry.

"Do what?" Adrian whispered gently, his warm hand running over the goosebumps on my arm.

"This," I reveal sadly. "I mean...you're my first...I've never felt things like this before, OK? It scares me."

Adrian's hand moved to my waist and I can feel his slender fingers on the skin between the edge of my hoodie and the waistline of my jeans. I put my hand around his left wrist, fighting the urge to pull him closer by that gray button down he wore. I shut my eyes as his hand brushed against my lower back, breathing in his cologne and mint mouth wash. I could tell he was testing me, seeing if I would pull away from him. How could I possibly explain to him that I remember the day I didn't know who he was...but now he was all that I thought about, that whenever I was around him, I didn't know what to say or how to act; but I wanted to tell him everything and anything on my mind. I had suspicions that he could help me become the very best version of myself. How exactly do I tell him that without running him off?

"I'm scared, too," Adrian told me, brushing his lips against my temple.

The bathroom door burst open. "Dudes!" Angela exclaimed. "What're you doing in here! Your PowerPoint is cued up!"

Adrian immediately shielded me from Angela's view. His chest was pressing against my back and it gave me serious chills. "Sorry," he called. "We're coming."

"Ella," Angela called, nearly stepping into the bathroom. "You alright?"

"Yeah," I called back, my tears finally gone.

"Ok good, get in there and kill it." Angela held the door open for the both of us as we passed through, ducking our heads. "Adrian, are you aware that you were in the girl's bathroom, or do you have something you wanna tell me?" Angela wondered, to my laughter.

Adrian rolled his eyes and held the door open for the both of us. "Hey, that's the first time you haven't called me Homeboy!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When Jamie returned home after spending the night at Andre's house, nobody was home. His father was out on meetings, his mother was working at the high school, and Matthew was in school. The only people home were Olivia and the nanny. Jamie entered his room and immediately grabbed a small duffel bag from his closet. Jamie threw the bag on the bed and began to open his dresser drawers. When Jamie turned to his open door, he froze. "What're you doing here?"

"I...wanted to see you," Clara stammered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Olivia's nanny let me in."

"You can go," Jamie told her, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't even look at you right now."

"Jamie, can I just please...just explain?" Clara begged, leaning her arms on the edge of Jamie's bed.

"Explain what? You've been cheating on me," Jamie spat, throwing random clothes into his bag. "It's simple. Were you fucking him, too?"

Clara's eyes widened and she gasped. "Jamie, oh my God..."

"What? It's a totally plausible question." Jamie slammed a pair of jeans into his suitcase and looked Clara in the eye for the first time. She was wearing a black top and slim fit dark wash jeans, her hair in a loose ponytail. She barely wore any makeup, and there were circles under her eyes. Jamie remembered when he first met her; they were friends first, Jamie a freshman at Tree Hill High and Clara, a sophomore. "Damn it, Clara. There's nothing left to say."

"I made a mistake," Clara begged. "I fucked up, Ok?" It's just been really hard with us being at different schools...Jamie, I love you!"

Jamie laughed humorlessly and ran his hands through his sandy blonde hair. "I love you, too. And... right now, I fucking hate it. I hate it."

"Yo, you ready?" Andre asked, walking into the room and stopping short in his tracks, looking between his two friends. "Oh," Andre muttered, unable to look Clara in the eye. "My bad."

Clara eyed Andre and the duffle bag and her heart sped up. "Where are you going?" she asked worriedly. "Are you staying over at Andre's? What's going on?"

"None of your damn business," Jamie snapped, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder and moving past the distraught girl in the room. "Let's go, Andre."

"Jamie, just...wait!" Clara pleaded, tugging on Jamie's left arm before he headed down the stairs.

"You and I, we're done," Jamie said evenly, pulling away from Clara's grasp. A cold seeped into his body like one he'd never felt. "Now you can go screw whatever douchebag you want."

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

As soon as the presentation ended, a huge weight lifted off my shoulders and I left the room smiling. I decided to eat lunch outside on one of the far-off picnic tables, people watching. Once in a while I eat lunch alone just to get a break from everyone. For Christ's sake, even my family works here. Can't blame a girl for needing a minute or two. I was scribbling frantically in a blue journal one of my old teachers got me, the muscles in my hand eventually straining.

Music is blasting in my ears, and it's only when Adrian sits next to me on the bench that I'm thrown off. I pull out my earphones as he leans over to kiss my cheek. "Hey," he says.

I stiffen against him, aware of all the eyes that could be watching us. "Hey."

Adrian gestures to my journal. "What's that?"

"Oh," I answer, slamming the book shut. I felt my cheeks heat up. "It's just a journal."

"Anything about me in there?" Adrian wondered, putting his hand gently on my right leg. My muscles tensed but soon eased under his touch.

"Maybe," I answered, grabbing his hand tight. His hand was making me shiver.

"Now I'm curious," Adrian pouted, reaching over to kiss my cheekbone gently, his leg shifting against mine. I feel my shoulders slump when he reaches over to kiss the side of my mouth, but my legs tensed up and Adrian pulled back. "What's wrong?" he asked, and he sounds concerned.

Great. Now it looks like I don't want him. "Nothing...I...I'm just really weird about PDA," I confessed. I look over Adrian's shoulder, and he does the same.

"There's no one here," Adrian laughs softly, putting a strand of hair away from my face. He gently pulled my hoodie off of my head. "I could never guess you were so shy by the way you fucking rocked our presentation. Nobody talks when you talks; you know that, right?"

It was true. Everyone shuts the hell up and you don't even hear a pin drop. "That's different," I insist, rubbing my thumb along Adrian's hand. "I just think there's a time and a place for..._that_." I jut my chin at the couple making out a few yards away from us. How do they breathe?

"I agree," Adrian said simply.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Adrian put his hand back on my leg, this time slowly running it up the inside of my thigh. "People need to be more subtle," he whispered, watching as my stomach tightened. My breath caught in my throat and I unwillingly dug my fingernails into his knee.

"I get it," I breathed almost desperately, feelings things I'd never felt before. My nerves were on fire. When Adrian pulls his hand away, I kind of miss it. He smiles at me gently, and for a second I want to forget about PDA and just kiss him without a care in the world for once. Now I finally know what it feels like.

We talked for a while about my mom and almost everything that went down the night before. Adrian didn't say much, just listened. I think that was what I needed.

"You acted so quickly," Adrian commented quietly, after I told him about running to my mother in the street and making sure the cops took care of her. "That's amazing."

"Yeah...I guess," I answered honestly. "I just really freaked out; that's my mom, you know?"

"Yeah," Adrian said, crinkling his tin foil from his lunch. "It's nice that you guys are so close; I can't stand my mom."

"Really?" I ask, watching him. For a second, he looked defeated. "Why?"

"Long story," Adrian said, looking over and smiling; but it looked kind of sad. "Can I show you something?" he asked quietly, and this time he tensed against me.

"Yeah," I say gently, our camaraderie disappearing at once. I couldn't resist brushing his soft hair away from his temple; it seemed to reassure him.

Adrian breathed out in relief and I caught his knee shaking at he reached into his bag for a large manilla folder. He handed the folder to me. "Open it," he urged.

My heart started pounding against my rib cage, but I undid the metal clasp to the envelope and gently pulled out what was inside. My cheeks reddened, and I smiled. "Oh, no..." I said, burrowing my face in Adrian's arm. He'd given me autographed photographs of our time on the roof; all black and white and polished and unbelievable. "How did you do these so fast?" I asked, my voice muffled by my hand covering my eyes.

Adrian chuckled, his minty breath traveling down to me. "I may or may not have my own darkroom in my basement." I heard the photographs being shuffled against the other. "This one's my favorite," Adrian said, forcing me to open my eyes to take a look. It was a closeup of me sitting horizontally across the roof ledge, mid laughter. My eyes stood out against the background. "So happy."

I felt Adrian's warm gaze heating up my skin. I playfully nudged his shoulder.

"There's also this one," Adrian said. He reached for the black and white shot of the two of us kissing on the roof ledge. My hair was blowing the slightest bit in the wind, and Adrian's arms were wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him. I got butterflies just looking at it; imagine if it were the real thing... "I think there may be a message on it," Adrian hinted slyly.

I followed Adrian's gaze to the upper right corner of the photograph; written in silver marker was the question...

"Be my girlfriend..." I breathed aloud, and I felt my body fire up in tingles. How a boy could do that in three words is beyond me. I gently placed the photograph onto the table and turned to face Adrian, letting go of his hand. I looked at him for a minute or two, eventually resting my chin on my open palm. I could tell he was searching my eyes, and when his face fell in disappointment, I said: "Yeah, OK."

Adrian let out a long breath and his shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank God!"

I started laughing, and I kissed him gently on his lips. "Awe," I whispered, running my hand through his hair. "You were so nervous."

"Well yeah!" Adrian protested, his arms around my waist. "Guys get nervous too."

"Don't worry," I whispered, kissing his soft lips again. "This was really cute, by the way. Good work."

Adrian laughed and nuzzled his nose against mine. "I try."

"Maybe we can hangout later."

Adrian flinched. "I have to pick up Nicky from school, every Wednesday."

"What? You can't spend every second of your life with me? How dare you!" I teased, squeezing Adrian's hand.

"Sammi?" Adrian asked knowingly; referring to a particularly _vain_ girl in our class. The whole class is up in the business of her relationship because she advertises it so damn much.

I laughed. "I overheard her and Roman fighting in the staircase the other day; I had to creep past. Most awkward thing ever."

"She's nuts," Adrian confessed, shuddering. He pulled me closer, maybe because he's thankful that I'm not psychotic. Well, not _too_ psychotic.

"Sorry," a voice I recognized too well broke our moment. Katie held out her hand. "Sorry...I'm...sorry." Katie stumbled off in the other direction; just like that I knew something was wrong.

"Be right back," I muttered, before hurriedly getting up off the bench, grabbing my crutches and following my best friend. "Katie, wait!" I called, and Katie eventually slowed and turned to me. "Hey," I breathed with a smile. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I know...I...I've been really swamped. I wanted to say sorry for not calling. My mom's really been hounding me; I'm sure you saw this morning."

"Yeah..."

Katie shrugged. "We can't all have moms like yours."

There's an awkward silence between us that's never happened before, and I hate it. "Katie...I miss you," I admit, taking a deep breath. "Is there something going on with you that I don't know about?"

"You and Adrian, huh?" Katie smiles, nudging my arm. "I was right after all."

"Don't change the subject," I told her gently. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, girl," Katie assured me. "I'm fine. Maybe tonight we'll catch up. I'll really call you. We can get takeout like old times."

"Sounds good," I tell her, ignoring that I'm technically grounded.

"Great." Katie gestured back to Adrian. "Go get your boy," she winked at me, and I realized how much I really missed her.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I walked into Mom's office, slung off my bag and crawled onto the green couch, taking off my sneakers and curling up into a little ball. My exhaustion caught up with me and I feel like I've been walking through mud the entire day. I drank my weight in water to get rid of my pounding headache. I felt Mom walk over and drape a blanket over my body, before bending over and kissing my forehead.

"Blondie! Where the hell have you been!" Chris Keller exclaimed, waltzing into the room. I don't have to open my eyes to see that look on his face.

"Shh!" Mom hissed, her hand on my waist. "You'll wake her up."

"Damn, I didn't even know she was there," Chris replied. Mom got up from the couch, and I opened my eyes without them noticing. I saw how Chris looked my mom over, unable to keep his eyes off her legs.

This is interesting.

"Why were you late this morning?" Chris asked, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. "I was worried."

"_You_ were worried," Mom said, crossing her arms.

"Well, yeah," Chris admitted. There was a moment of silence as the two of them looked at each other. "I've gotta show you the newest work in 'Nothing Charming'; I think you'll really like it. Maybe it'll cheer you up."

"Who says I need cheering up?" Mom asked.

I watched as Chris shrugged gently. "I had a feeling." Chris put his hand on Mom's lower back, leading her toward the booth.

_Whoa._

As soon as they were in the booth, I quickly got up off the couch and watched through the window. Chris was sitting at the Steinway, and Mom sat with her legs crossed, watching him with something like a smile on her face. She almost looked at peace. As badly as I wanted to interrupt them, I didn't. I went back to the couch and collapsed into sleep.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Haley pulled up to the driveway in her home to see Jamie and Andre heading to Andre's car. Jamie had a dufflebag over his shoulder, and upon seeing this Haley's heart jumped into a panic. "Jamie," Haley called, quickly exiting her car. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Jamie answered, slinging the bag into the backseat of Andre's white Ford. When Haley pulled on Jamie's forearm, Jamie had tears in his eyes. "I'm going to stay with Andre for a little while, Mom," he whispered.

Haley's heart fell into her stomach. "What? Wait...why?" she asked. "We're gonna work this out, baby. Your father is tearing himself apart."

Jamie shook his head rapidly, running a hand over his face. "I'm leaving."

"Oh honey," Haley begged, running a hand over Jamie's smooth chin. "Just...just tell me why. Talk to me!"

Jamie harshly pulled himself away from Haley's grasp, anger and sadness in his eyes. "I don't want to live here anymore!" he shouted.

Haley gaped, and she began to cry. "Jamie, please..." Haley could do nothing but watch as Jamie climbed into the passenger seat of the Ford. "Andre!" Haley pleaded, searching the eyes of the man she'd known since he was just six.

Andre sighed heavily, and his warm gaze was sympathetic towards his second mother. "I..." Andre shook his head, before climbing into the driver's seat of his car. Without looking back, Andre drove away from the Scott household, with Haley fighting to stand on her two feet.

A few blocks away, Andre looked to his best friend. Jamie was wiping at his tears, and Andre drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. "So...where we going?"

Jamie swallowed hard, and his knees were shaking. "TRIC."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Katie Nowell trudged into her household, her dog Pungo nipping at her ankles. She sighed heavily, pulling her headphones out of her ears. She could hear her mother by the sink. Katie quickly started up the stairs, but stopped when her phone went off in another text message.

_We know you were lying. _

"Katie," Julie stood to the threshold of the living room, her arms over her chest. "You're very late; you were meant to be home for dinner an hour and a half ago."

"Sorry," Katie mumbled, trudging up the stairs, feeling weighted down by something invisible.

"Don't walk away," Julie demanded, following Katie up the stairs. "We need to discuss this."

Katie turned on her heels in front of her bedroom door. "Discuss what? You make a big deal out of the dumbest shit."

"Katie, I really don't appreciate you acting like this."

Katie rolled her eyes and turned to walk into her bedroom, but her mother yanked on her am. "Will you please stop!" Katie yelled, pulling away from her mother. "I don't want to fucking talk to you!" Katie went and slammed the door in her mother's face, locking it.

Katie turned on her lamplight, moving a pile of dirty clothes off her bed. In her haste she knocked over a framed photograph of her and Ella when they were five, but didn't bother retrieving it from the floor. Her phone went off in another text message.

_You're a fucking dirty liar._

Tears pricked at Katie's eyes as she shut off her phone and threw it across the room on top of her fuzzy blue beanbag chair. She reached for the shoebox under her box where she kept her father's vodka; she stole it from her father's prized liquor cabinet...and he hadn't even noticed. Katie tipped her head back and took a sip, letting the vodka burn down her throat.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It'd only been eight days since Catherine had seen Ella; she seemed fine. Catherine never thought she'd be jogging full speed, after midnight, towards her best friend's house in a complete panic after one cryptic text message. Catherine let herself into the Scott house with her spare key, and the hallways were dark. "Ella!" Catherine called, her whole body shaking. "Ella!"

There was a single light coming from the kitchen, and Catherine ran towards it. "Oh my God!"

There was Ella, lying curled up and unmoving on the cold kitchen floor.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_What happened to Ella? What's going on with Katie? Next chapter, we learn a whole lot more about Adrian. _

_The story is going to take a HUGE turn, so get ready. Show some love please, this chapter took WORK. _


	11. Chapter 10

_Ok. Here it is. A few things...first, the chapter is out of order. The climax is at the end. Second, this chapter forced me to break a few glass barriers, go beyond my comfort zone in several ways. The writing is even more raw than I'm used to. It actually made me nauseous, I kid you not. Parts of this chapter had me opening personal wounds, and I had to take **several** deep breaths to get through it. _

_Please remember when reading this that Lucas and Peyton still love each other very much, and care for each other profoundly. Please don't give up on this story because they're having a tough time. I work very hard to make this story great, and I would LOVE to hear what you think. _

_Never underestimate the power of words and how it can consume you. Hang on. _

_Chapter Ten_

It was the first time Lucas stepped onto the Rivercourt since Ryan's death. Impossibly, it looked deserted, yet he could still the echos of happier times if he listened close enough. Lucas brought no basketball this time; instead he sat on the bleachers, his knees close to his chest. He hoped the breeze would help push this heavy burden off his shoulders, or the rock out of his pocket.

"Hey, Coach," Lucas turned to see CJ and two of his other Ravens approaching him, looking nervous.

"Hey guys," Lucas returned, put on alert. He was going to be strong for the boys; someone had to be. "What are you doing here?"

"We kinda wanted to talk to you about something." CJ and the two other Ravens took a seat on the bleachers next to their coach. "It's about Ryan. We've been thinking...since Midnight Madness was so great, we've been wanting to do something else especially for Ryan's family."

"Ok," Lucas nodded, leaning closer to them to hear better over the wind.

"Well... we all know how much Ryan loved music and going to concerts and stuff," CJ said.

"We thought it would be cool to put together a Benefit Concert," Damon added hesitantly. "All the proceeds would go to Ryan's family, and they can give it to the charity of their choice...'cause you know how Ryan was with charities."

"Yeah, he used to work at that Summer Camp for underprivileged kids," Ian replied, and CJ stared at him.

"That was rhetorical Ian."

Lucas chuckled; looking at his players and how much they had grown. They were all seniors, he still couldn't believe it. "I think that's a great idea."

"I want to ask Ryan's family in person," CJ spoke, clearing his throat. "Could you...could you do it with me?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Chris Keller finished his ballad, played his final chord on the Steinway before turning to face Peyton. He watched as she had to take a deep breath, and blinked her eyes a few times. Chris grinned, his eyes sparkling. Speechless audience meant a job well done. "Good, right?"

"Yeah," Peyton admitted, chuckling a bit. Her foot loosened in her strappy black heels, and she subtly rubbed her foot against her other leg. Chris made an effort to look away, and Peyton noticed. "Wonderful work."

Peyton expected some snide, annoying comment, but Chris just smiled. "Thanks." Chris watched her for a moment, and wondered if the tears in her eyes were again from more than just beautiful music. "Peyton," he tried gently. "What's got you so sad?" Although, he thought he knew the answer already.

"I'm not sad," Peyton said, crossing her legs. Chris noticed that, too.

Chris sighed, looked at Peyton carefully, but her gaze did not break. "C'mon...you can hide to protect your daughter, but you don't have to hide with me. I told you, music is personal. Vulnerability is a two-way street."

"I wasn't-where do you get these things? Fortune cookies?"

"Hey!" Chris said, but he laughed, pointing at her. "Maybe I'm just sensitive." Peyton nodded, brushed a strand of hair away from her ear. Chris boldly moved to to sit next to Peyton, and she stiffened. His knee touched hers, and he swore he felt something. There was something. "So...what's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"

"Chris-" Peyton protested, and Chris almost shut his eyes at the sound. He wondered if that's what she sounded like...

"Is it Lucas?" Chris pressed, his nerves going haywire. She was so close, he could touch her if he wanted to. Boy, did he want to. _What is happening? _

Peyton sighed, "This isn't...appropriate; you're my client."

"What if I was asking you as more than that?"

Peyton swallowed, stiffened when she felt Chris' body heat.

"Peyton," both of them jumped at the third voice and Chris got up from the chair like he was on fire. Miranda didn't even blink, instead she said, "Your nephew's here. He says it's urgent." Peyton stood up, and walked out of the recording booth, and Chris couldn't help but notice the sensual sway of her hips. He noticed Miranda staring and he cleared his throat. Miranda walked stride and stride with Peyton, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Ella, "Did I just walk in on something?"

"No," Peyton answered firmly, enough to tell Miranda that was the end of that. Miranda struggled to keep up with Peyton's sure strides, the way her heels echoed against the floor.

Peyton found her nephew sitting on a couch in a lounge area not too far away from the bar. He stood up and put his hands in his pockets; Peyton could tell he was nervous immediately. "Jamie, honey," she said, giving him a big hug and kiss. She noticed how tightly he returned her embrace. "Is everything OK?" Peyton took a seat next to Jamie on the couch, running a hand up and down his back to soothe him.

"Um..." Jamie tried, and Peyton noticed his knees were trembling. "I was wondering if I could talk to you." Jamie told his aunt everything, starting with his troubles at school, the issue with his college roommate, the fall he took, and all that transpired that led him here. Peyton didn't say much, just nodded and let Jamie talk, as he wasn't known for unleashing the details of his private life. A part of her couldn't believe Lucas didn't tell her any of this. "I was wondering...could I..." Jamie sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Peyton waited patiently and watched her nephew; he reminded her more of Lucas everyday.

"I was wondering...if I could maybe live with you for a little while," Jamie let out in one breath, his eyes wide and sad. He noticed he made his aunt temporarily speechless, so he quickly added, "Please, take your time with it. Talk it over with Uncle Luke...I know it's a lot...and I mean if you don't want me there... I get it."

"Honey," Peyton assured him, holding his hand. "It's not that I wouldn't want you there, I would love to have you. But it's not a decision I can make on my own," Peyton said carefully, running her hand over Jamie's back. It seemed to comfort him. "But I'll think about it and let you know. Of course I will."

Jamie nodded, taking a deep breath. "It's just...with my dad and everything..." he realized he had left that part out, so he told his aunt how his father got physical.

"...He what?"

"I'm sure he didn't...mean it," Jamie tried lamely, wiping his hands with his face.

Peyton nodded, unsure of what to say. "Your father loves you, Jamie." She knew Nathan had a temper, and for him to utilize it meant either he was justified in doing so or way out of hand...she also knew that he was probably destroyed with guilt. "Thanks for trusting me with this."

"You're a bit more approachable than Uncle Lucas these days," Jamie admitted, smiling as his aunt laughed; she really had the best laugh ever. "And you're my favorite aunt."

"Oh, don't tell Brooke that," Peyton warned, and Jamie really laughed.

"She's my godmother!" Jamie smiled softly; he had no idea how his uncle could let Peyton slip from his arms. "Thanks for being there for me."

Peyton brought Jamie in for a sweet side hug and kissed his temple. "Always." She got up from the couch and Jamie followed.

"Oh...do you think- can you not tell my mom that we talked?"

Peyton smiled gently; she knew how prized confessions could be at this age, and unfortunately parents were a teenager's worst enemy. Peyton flinched as she thought Ella was already there. "Tell her what?" she winked, and Jamie nodded in relief.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-x

I got up from the couch for the third time, and when I peeked into the recording booth to find it empty, I walked in quickly and sat at the Steinway. I took a deep breath as my fingers ran over the smooth keys. Knowing that I was alone for only a little while, I began to play. I had memorized these chords by now, and the words were slowly forming.

_Don't you worry honey _

_Don't you worry sweetheart _

_I'll get off this train_

_and then I'll shout your name _

The chords came with ease as I my fingers danced along the keyboard.

_Do I miss you?_

_Yes of course I miss you_

_Do I love you?_

_Yes of course I love you_

Soft clapping behind me, and the chords crashed to a stop, my voice muted. I turned around rapidly to see none other than Keller sitting on the stool my mom usually sits in. "Oh...hey," I say, my cheeks filling in color. Of course somebody had to walk in here. It was empty five minutes ago!

"That was gorgeous," Chris said honestly. "Who wrote that?"

I ran a hand through my hair and turned away from him, his gaze too strong. "Um...I did."

"You wrote that?"

"It's nothing," I defended, turning back to him when my face wasn't so red. "I mean it's not...done."

"Maybe I can help," Chris offered. He gestured to the piano stool. "Can I?" I nodded, and Chris moved to sit next to me. "Play the chords again." Chris watches intently while tapping his right foot. He imitates my chord with his right hand. "So it's in the key of B minor?"

"Yeah."

"I really like it. Sounds like you've got great verses, but you need a chorus. What about a bridge?"

Chris is watching me and my fingers start to tremble and my stomach is twisting again. "I mean...yeah I have this," I played the bridge, or what I thought was the bridge, and Chris nodded.

"I really like that," he said. "Super catchy. Can you play it from the beginning?"

My cheeks flush again, and I slouch. "Um...I don't..."

"Oh come on, there's nobody here."

"I know; I just hate playing for people."

Chris chuckled. "Well how are people gonna know that you can write song lyrics, and sing them beautifully, if you don't show them?"

I roll my eyes, look away from him. "I really don't think anyone would care."

"That's not true," Chris argued. "You gotta act like people care way more than they actually do." I felt him watching me and I wanted to shrink away. "Are you having a bad day, is that why?"

"I'm grounded."

"Right, and you're on crutches. I see why you might be having a bad week."

I flinched and shut my eyes, and I felt the knives entering me again. Sometimes the comments people say are just...stick the knife in there and _turn it_ for fuck's sake. Yet another soul who thinks my crutches are because of an injury and are temporary. Chris Keller's not the only one. "Actually...I have a disability."

"Oh..."

"It's OK," I tell Chris, although I want to wring his neck for not being informed at all. "You didn't know."

"Sorry," he says, avoiding my gaze and toying with the piano keys. "This is awkward."

I brush a curl away from my face, and decide I know the perfect cure for this awkward silence. "Are you into my mom?"

Chris' hands crashed against the piano keys to play a blur of notes and I had to keep from laughing so hard. "Wh...what? No."

"I saw you in here," I tell him, resting my chin on my palm and watching him get all squirmy. He was _so _into her. "You couldn't stop staring at her. I know she's hot and all, but Jesus."

Chris chuckled nervously, willed himself to stop blushing. "Peyton's my boss."

"You should ask her out."

Chris laughed, but stopped when I didn't waver. "You _want_ me to ask your mother out? Your dad would murder me."

"I don't think he would notice."

"Careful what you wish for, kid," Chris told me, nudging my shoulder.

"So you _do_ like her!" I said, way too excited for my own good. "Ask her out for a drink. She deserves a night out for working so hard."

"Hm..." Chris replied. "That's a good point." He looked at me. "You'd really be OK with that?" I watched him take a sip of his water.

"It's just drinks, jeez. If you tried to have sex with her, then we'd definitely have a problem." Chris spit out his water all over the keyboards and I edged away from him, biting down on my tongue. I don't understand how my mom doesn't laugh at this guy. "Although, I don't think she'd want to sleep with you if you tried to serenade her with one of your pastry jingles."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was a sunny, early Friday afternoon when Peyton walked into the drowsy Karen's Café to meet Haley for brunch. Haley was sitting sipping an iced tea, ever so classy and refined. "Hey Foxy," Peyton greeted, and they embraced.

"Hey," Haley greeted, looking over her sister-in-law, who could pull off glamorous and low-key and still look smokin'. "Look at you."

"Oh stop," Peyton insisted, tracing over her glass of ice water.

At that moment, Brooke walked in, and the two placed their orders with their favorite waiter, Zander. "I love Zander," Brooke said dreamily, watching him walk away. "He's so hot."

Peyton chuckled, resting her chin on her palm. "I missed this."

"Me too," Haley agreed. "I feel like we haven't done this in so long. So...is Chris behaving?"

"Oh, I'm gonna love this," Brooke insisted.

Over lunch, all three caught up with what was going on in their lives. Brooke was busy with her clothing line, Jullian was in love with a new script, their kids were growing up too fast and Sam was loving her independence in LA. The subject of Lucas was avoided by Brooke and Haley for Peyton's sake; they knew if she wanted to talk about it, she'd bring it up.

"My baby is getting so big," Haley pouted, thinking of Olivia.

"I'm sure Ella would love to babysit her if you need, Hales," Peyton offered, slyly edging into conversation she hoped would lead to Jamie.

"Really? That's an idea; she would be awesome," Haley said confidently. "How's she doing?"

"She's good," Peyton said. "Really busy. Still grounded from running off like a deviant."

"God help me when Natalie gets to that age," Brooke shuddered. "She's getting a little attitude, that one." Brooke took a sip of her Bloody Mary. "Ella and Jamie are good kids though; maybe she'll follow their lead."

Haley chuckled nervously and Peyton was put on alert. This was her in. "How's Jamie doing at William & Mary?"

"Um..." Haley looked at her two best friends and decided, it wasn't worth it trying to withold the truth; considering they'd find out anyway. "That's actually something I wanted to share with you." Haley's eyes got teary and she took a deep breath. Peyton and Brooke waited patiently, and Haley was evermore grateful for these two ladies. After a moment or two, Haley told her best friends the whole story. Peyton tried her best to act surprised, whereas Brooke was rendered speechless. "And Nathan...he was rough on him. Now Jamie doesn't...he wants to move out," Haley revealed, a few tears falling down her beautiful face. "He told me he doesn't want to live at home anymore."

"Oh Hales," Brooke said mournfully, rubbing her arm. "I'm sure he didn't mean it and just needs space."

Haley shook her head, wiping her eyes. "No...you guys didn't see his face; I think he's serious. He looked so betrayed! He drove off with Andre," Haley cried, and Brooke and Peyton got teary eyed at the sight. "Nathan...Nathan didn't mean it. He loves James to death."

"We know, Haley," Peyton assured her gently, wiping her eyes. "Have you heard from him?"

Haley shook her head no. "Andre sends me messages saying that he's OK...but Denise already has so much to deal with, and Andre has to go back to school...I just wish...I just wish somebody could keep an eye on him, see that he's all right."

Peyton swallowed, and decided her offer was now or never. If God forbid Ella were in the same predicament, she'd want her staying with either Haley or Brooke over anyone else. "You know...James can stay with me, if he wanted to."

Haley looked up to Peyton, momentarily shocked. Her mouth opened, then closed again. "Oh...I can't ask you to do that...that's too much."

"I'm offering," Peyton insisted. "He's my first nephew," she said fondly. "I'd do anything for him, you know that."

"Me too," Brooke added. "I would take him in a second, if my twins weren't so much to handle. You know what they say, double the one, double the evil."

Both women laughed, "I mean that would be...unbelievable," Haley said.

Peyton shrugged. "I hear he's a fabulous house guest."

"Perfect," Brooke said, remembering all the times Jamie slept over when he was younger.

"I have the room Haley. I'm sure Luke would be fine with it, and Ella would be over the moon."

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I rounded the corner to see none other than Adrian walking towards me, and I saw that smile on his face that made me feel lighter somehow. He greeted me with a kiss to my cheek and said, "I know we couldn't hang out Wednesday, but I was thinking we could do something after school. I have somewhere I want to show you."

"What is it?" I ask, my eyes lighting up in anticipation.

"I'm not saying," Adrian answers. "It ruins the surprise."

"You're boring," I told him, pouting.

Adrian rolled his eyes, but he smiled anyway. "Meet me at 2:00 after school?"

"We'll see," I called over my shoulder.

"Don't be late!'

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Yet another Friday where Luke was stuck in his library, in front of his computer screen. He willed and willed, but the words would not come. "Come on Ryan, help me out here," Lucas whispered to the empty room. Nothing. Lucas shut his eyes and took a deep breath, ran a hand over his forehead. He shut his laptop shut, moved to lie down on the couch for a change of perspective. Lucas reached into his pocket to answer his phone when it rang, groaning internally when he saw it was his editor calling. "Hey, Frank."

"_Oh Good. You're alive for Christ's sake. Your two weeks are up." _

"Already?"

_"Yes. Lucas, where the hell are my damn pages? You promised me." _

"They're...they're coming. It's just been a really tough few weeks. I'll get them to you."

_"__Lucas, I'm really pulling for you, and you know I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I can't hold them off any longer." _

"I can't just rush it, Frank," Lucas swore through gritted teeth, his anger rising. "It doesn't work like that."

_"I agree, but unfortunately, they don't give a shit about you or any of the other writers. They care about money. The deal was a book a year." _

_ "_That was before one of my basketball players, a fucking seventeen year-old kid, killed himself. He jumped off a Goddamn bridge Frank! What the hell do you want from me? Write the hours away like I used to? I can't do that." Silence on the other line, no words; just Frank's heavy, exasperated breathing.

_"__You're going to need to try. Push yourself, I know you can do it." _

"I can't."

_"Luke...if you don't get me the pages by 5:00 tomorrow night, they're calling off the deal."_

Lucas' temperature spiked and he began trembling. A slew of curses were begging to leave his lips but he miraculously watched himself. "You agreed to that?"

_"I had no choice." _

"Yes you did," Lucas yelled. "I can't believe this."

_"I'm sorry-" _

"You know what? What if I burned the pages, then there'd be nothing and they all can go _fuck _themselves." Lucas hung up his phone and threw it to the couch, and he looked up to see Peyton standing by the doorway.

"What happened?"

"Nothing!" Lucas yelled, turning away from her and walking to his desk. "I really don't want to talk about it, Peyton."

Peyton walked closer to see an empty glass of alcohol sitting on Lucas' desk. "You're still drinking?" she asked incredulously. "My God, Lucas...you're on beta-blockers. What are you _doing_?"

"You know I have one or two when I write."

Peyton angrily marched over to Luke's desk, and against his ill protests she reached into his bottom drawer and reached for his bottle of Cognac. She slammed it against his desk so hard Lucas thought the bottle would crack. "One or two bottles? Don't you dare play me for an idiot, Lucas. You have to _stop _drinking. I'm scared for you." Tears brimmed Peyton's eyes and something hurt deep within Luke's chest. "It breaks my heart to see you like this..." she cried, pressing her hand to her mouth.

Lucas said nothing, just hung his arms at his sides and watched, his lip trembling. His foot stood planted to the ground but despite that he could hear the little voice screaming to go comfort her, hold her, love her before she slipped away forever. But the rock in his pocket holding him down was heavier than ever. "They're threatening to take away my book deal."

Peyton stared at him. "Why?"

"I've taken too long with the new pages. Frank said he can't 'hold them off'. It's not...it's not _working." _

"So tell them to wait," Peyton said, anger rising in her voice like it did when she defended her husband.

"They don't want to."

"That's ridiculous."

Lucas turned away from his wife, stared at the endless collection of books on his bookshelf. "I used to think being surrounded by all these amazing writers would inspire me. Now it's just intimidating. It's _great_ writing, Peyt. I haven't been great in a long time, and I don't think I will be again."

"Stop...don't say that..." Peyton said quietly.

"It's true," Lucas said, shrugging. "And...I used to _care, _but now I don't."

Peyton scoffed and crossed her arms. "You don't care about anything."

Lucas whipped back his head to stare at her. Wrong...he cared about two people more than anything else in the world, and he was looking at one of them. They could take his house, they could take his job. They could take this whole damn library and all his prized possessions. As long as he had them, he'd be able to breathe...that's all that mattered. If only it were that simple to just _tell _her all that.

Instead, Luke felt his body moving to his desk. He was losing his book deal. He was losing the spark that led him to write in the first place. "Maybe you're right," he answered stiffly, before reaching into his desk drawer and taking his unfinished manuscript for his latest work. He'd gotten 40% done, before Ryan died. After that, it sat locked away collecting dust.

"What are you doing?" Peyton asked, recognizing the purple cover as one of Lucas' manuscripts. She watched as he headed over to the fireplace and held the manuscript over the flames.

"Maybe this is how much I care, Peyt," Lucas said, before throwing the manuscript into the fireplace. His nerves burst with euphoria as he watched, entranced by the licking flames. "My only copy!" he said, chuckling with a strange hint of delusion. Lucas watched as he reached for his bottle of Cognac, unscrewed the cap and poured most of the bottle into the fire, watching as it licked and hissed and spurred. Lucas stared closer, and his breath caught in his throat when he thought he saw Ryan staring back at him, a somber look on his face. His form bent and shaped and soon he was standing there. Ryan was wearing dark jeans and a blue t shirt, his skin darkened and swollen, and his clothes dripping in water from the Cape Fear River. Lucas turned back with an exhale, shaken out of his state. Ryan's shape vanished, and instead he saw Peyton, who was trying to hold back a sob.

"I can't do this," she cried, before turning quickly on her feet and heading to the door. She stopped short in her tracks and turned. "Jamie is going to be living with us, by the way," she said, then she took the door and slammed it closed so hard the frame chipped and bits of wood flew everywhere.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

I sat outside the high school as kids poured out of the front doors at exactly 2:05pm, running like mad and excited to start their weekend. I hurriedly reached into my jeans pocket for my phone. "Mom, where are you?"

_"On my way to my car to come get you, why?" _

"Don't pick me up; I have to stay after school for a few hours," I tell her. If I say anything about Adrian taking me anywhere, she'll badger me with questions and I'll lose my patience. "Adrian and I are working on a project."

_"Another one? I thought you just finished with one." _

"Yeah well, Angela's ruthless."

_"Sounds it. So what time do you want me to pick you up, babe?" _

"I don't know, 6:30?" I think quickly. I don't want to make it too late or Mom will suspect something.

_"Ok. 6:30 then. __Don't be late please.__" _

We exchange I Love Yous and I hang up the phone, just as Adrian walked over. "You give me all this flack about not being late and I've been waiting ten minutes! Time is money," I teased, looking up at him.

He gently ran his thumb over my right cheek, and I shivered. "Sorry. You ready?"

"Please get me the hell outta here," I told him, and he laughed. He pulled me to my feet, handed me my crutches, and we were on our way. When Adrian led me to the Tree Hill train station, I looked at him warily. "Ok...this isn't cute anymore, where are we going?"

"Fayetteville."

"What's in Fayetteville?" I asked him, and my eyes lit up. "A _band!_"

Adrian flinched. "Not exactly..."

"...Oh."

"I promise it's not totally lame. Do you trust me?"

I shrugged as the train rolled into the station. "Who said I wasn't lame?" The doors opened and I stepped onto the train, Adrian right behind me. We picked a pair of seats in a pretty deserted cabin, and Adrian let me have the window seat. On the hour and a half train ride to what could possibly be my death, Adrian and I chatted the whole way there; and he didn't let go of my hand once, entwining our fingers and running his thumb over the scars on my hand.

"What are those little scars?"

"Needle pricks," I answered. "Hospital visits and all that."

Adrian nodded, reached to bring my hand to his lips for a kiss. "It hurt, didn't it?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I survived it, though."

Adrian looks up at me and there's something in both of our eyes that has my heart ready to explode. I turned away to scroll through my I-Pod, and we sit in comfortable silence for a while.

"What're you listening to?"

"Hectór Lavoe," I answered. "He's the King of Salsa."

"Can I hear some?" Adrian asked. He held out his hand for one of my red earphones, and I gave it to him, watched in awe as he put into his ear confidently.

_Todo tiene su final _

_Nada dura para siempre_

_tenemos que recordar _

_que no existe eterniad _

"What's he saying?"

"Everything has its end...nothing lasts forever...we must remember...that eternity doesn't exist."

"Wow," Adrian answered.

"Beautiful, right?"

"A little depressing," Adrian admitted. "But it is beautiful."

"Like The Cure isn't depressing _at all_," I told Adrian and he laughed.

"I thought you liked The Cure."

"I do; but they're depressing as hell. I have to admit the more I listen to Spanish music, the more I think the lyrics are so much more meaningful than a lot of English music."

"_Whoa,_" Adrian began, and I cut him off before he went on some 80s and 70s rock diatribe or God knows what.

"Hear me out!" I scrolled through my I-Pod, put on Luis Miguel, and gave it to Adrian to listen as I translated. "Listen to what he's saying: 'the day you love me, the lovely roses will dress in their loveliest hue, the wind chimes will be ringing to tell the world you're mine now; the fountains are madly singing how I am loved by you.'" I pulled the headphones out of his ear, "That's the most gorgeous thing ever."

Adrian chuckled, and he leaned towards me. "I think the wind chimes are ringing to tell the world you're mine now, Ella."

I hit his shoulder and he just laughed harder. "Oh shut up. You don't appreciate beautiful lyrics." Then I had to listen him lecture me for half an hour about Bob Dylan and Lennon. t I already knew all of that, so I just opened my notebook to do homework and pretended not to speak to him, but it didn't work for very long and we just held hands again.

"Does an empty train car count as too crowded and PDA?" Adrian's hand found my thigh, watching as I shivered and my toes curled. "You're just really tense," he whispered to me, before reaching and placing a slow kiss to my neck. "You smell really good."

"Take it easy," I breathed, and my desire to resist him was fading second by second.

"Shy," he teased.

I reached over and I pulled Adrian by the collar of his shirt, and our lips met heatedly. I pushed up the armrest that sat between us, and he pulled me closer to him as if he'd stop breathing if he couldn't have me, his warm hands grazing my waist. I grazed my hands over his thigh and I felt him get tense this time. Adrian's touch shot goosebumps up my arm, and he moaned a bit when my tongue brushed against his.

"Ahem!" We pulled apart immediately and my cheeks flushed red. A tall, burly conductor was staring down at us, his steely eyes hidden by his conductor's hat. "Tickets, please."

"We'd like to buy two," Adrian said, trying to not laugh. He reached into his jeans pocket for his black wallet.

"Where you going?"

"Fayetteville," Adrian answered, handing the conductor $20 and waiting for change.

"Sorry for the interruption," the conductor told us, before quickly walking out of the car.

I shrunk into my seat and covered my face, and Adrian laughed while rubbing my back. "It's not funny!" I insisted. "Shoot me now."

"Your face got all red," he said. "You're adorable."

I scowled, before hitting _Othello_ off of Adrian's lap nonsensically. "See what happens when I'm all up on you like Sammi was earlier? Creepy conductors walk in on us."

"First of all, I'd never let Sammi do to me what you just did, and second, I think it's endearing that you get shy...'cause clearly you're not."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Adrian led me down the streets of Fayetteville, and he pulled open the door to a small building that was completely dark on the inside. "This is Jesse's," he said, turning on the lights. The room came to life, revealing a tasteful space with cherry wood tables and dim lighting. There was a fully stocked bar to my left, and in front were booths and more tables facing a small stage lifted from the ground. "What do you think?"

"Wow," I said, looking at all the photographs of famous jazz musicians on the wall. "This is great. Your dad's?" I asked, gesturing to a menu on the bar.

"Yeah; he's been trying to get a place like this started, start reintroducing Jazz acts back to the market. His dream was to launch one back in San Francisco, but then my grandma got sick and we had to move here, so he didn't have the chance."

"Your dad's mom?"

"No, my mom's." I leaned my crutches against the wall and sat at the bar, which Adrian went behind and started fixing me a drink. "It's just a Mike's Hard."

"Nice," I told him, sipping from the glass. "Trying to get me drunk or what?"

"I'd like to think I have a bit more game than that,"Adrian told me, smiling. Even as I insisted I wasn't very hungry, Adrian still served me a little something, and told me all about how his father started his own band in the late 80s as lead sax man.

I watched as his eyes flickered like they did when he had an idea, and he reached under the bar for a small wooden box. I watched as he opened the box and took out an old black and white photograph. "That's me and him, I was about six."

I took the photograph in my hand gently. My fingers grazed over a cute little Adrian, all hazel-eyed with longer hair, playing a saxophone that was the length of his whole body. His father Jesse stood next to him also playing saxophone, and they looked at each other. There was a bright shining light behind them, and everything about it was majestic. "That's so cute!"

"On stage at Carnegie Hall," Adrian said softly, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "That was a good day."

"Your eyes light up when you talk about him."

Adrian smiled and a little color filled his cheeks. "He's a pretty cool guy." Adrian walked around the other end of the bar and held out his hands. "Show you around?" He led me all around his dad's new place, which was heading to its grand opening soon. Adrian showed me the balcony that had a great view of the whole first floor. "This is my favorite space," Adrian said, pulling me into another section of the bar filled with dining tables that faced a massive body of water and more of downtown Fayetteville. "It's awesome at night; it'll be great for parties and stuff." He led me into a smaller, more intimate room with leather seats, a desk and a sound system. It looked like an office.

I sat down on the leather couch, and before Adrian could join me, I noticed the shiny gold saxophone sitting on a stand against the wall. "Play something."

"Right now?" Adrian hung his head and sighed, but I wasn't joking. He picked up the sax gingerly, wiped off the mouthpiece with his shirt, and started to play.

As soon as he started, it's like he sucked the air out of the room and I was at his mercy. I watched in awe as Adrian's fingers danced against the saxophone, his eyes shut and concentrated as his lips blew deep breaths and the music flowed, so smooth and haunting. It made its way covering every inch of my body and making me shiver as Adrian played Billie Holiday's _I'll Be Around_. His knees bent and his torso contorted. He leaned forward and back, letting the music carry him. He was uninhibited, even more passionate and sexy as _hell_.

"Adrian, _oh my God_," I said, and he chuckled, setting down the sax and turning on Coltrane to a low murmur. He moved to sit next to me and I faced him on the couch. "That was amazing," I said honestly, brushing a hair from his forehead. "How long were you gonna keep that a damn secret!"

"I told you I played sax," Adrian said, grabbing my hand. "I'm glad you liked it."

It was then I realized Adrian had been playing sax since he stood on stage at Carnegie Hall. "Um..._yes._ It was really sexy," I admitted, a little breathless.

Adrian chuckled and leaned closer to me. This time I didn't relent, didn't stiffen up; instead I placed my hand at the nape of his neck, breathing in his cologne, guiding his other hand to my waist. "I think the only thing sexier might be watching you watch me play," he breathed. "You really are beautiful. I think you owe me something on the piano," he said, but I barely heard him before he kissed me, lighting me on fire.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Jamie was enjoying a nice nap on Andre's futon before he was violently attacked with a pillow. "What the-" Jamie garbled as he was pulled out of sleep. He blinked twice and rubbed his eyes to see Andre sitting in his desk chair, chewing on an apple. "Why are you watching me sleep?"

"I'm here to get your ass up," Andre answered, finishing off his apple and pulling open his window curtains, letting sunlight pour over Jamie's body and blind him.

"Andre, what the fuck!" Jamie swore, covering his head with the pillow.

"It's 4 in the afternoon, you lazy," Andre said, pulling the covers off Jamie's body. "Your aunt's waiting for you downstairs."

"Why?"

Andre rolled his eyes. "Aren't you moving in with her?"

At this, Jamie shot up and scrambled to look out the window. Sure enough, Aunt Peyton's legendary 1963 Mercury Comet was parked at the curb. Ecstatic, James ran a head through his bed hair and reached to organize his clothes in his duffel bag from the pile he orchestrated in the corner. "Shit! I gotta pack!"

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x-

My legs were tensing up as Adrian leaned over me, pressing my body into the couch cushions, hands moving and then staying absolutely still. My body trembled as his soft lips pressed against mine, and we melded together like hot lava. His movements were both desperate and calm. We pulled apart to breathe, and he says, "Do you know what it's like to see you in school and not be able to do more than hold your hand? It's torture."

Our lips connected again to the sounds of John Coltrane. I feel his tongue pressing against mine and it's smooth and eager all at once, making my body shiver and my legs tighten like they've never had. It's like we fit together perfectly, as cliché as they may seem it's true, because although it's our first time getting this heavy, it feels effortless. But maybe that's because Adrian actually knows what he's doing.

My lips are swollen when Adrian eventually presses a light kiss to my neck, and then he starts to suck on my pulse point. I release a breath of air, feathering my fingers through Adrian's hair and supressing a moan as his lips bruise my skin; even though it hurts it still feels amazing to have him like this. I'm afraid I'll blink twice and it'll all be gone. Adrian buried his hands in my blonde waves, and as I was kissing him I got carried away and nipped his bottom lip. He told me it felt good, so I did it again.

The music was just low enough for us to hear voices and footsteps on the floor below us. Adrian pulled away to moan against my neck.

"What?" I asked, completely out of breath with my chest heaving. My heart was racing from start to finish.

"My dad and Nicky are here," Adrian said, wiping my lip gloss from his lips. He pulled me up gently, and I fixed myself, making sure to hide the hickey on my neck with my hair.

"_ADI!" _I heard a much younger voice, and I couldn't help but smile. Adrian and I turned to the door when we heard struggling footsteps going up the staircase.

"Nicky, be careful on the stairs!" Adrian called back, sending me an apologetic glance before getting up and walking quickly to the staircase. Adrian returned minutes later, and my heart dropped into my stomach. "Ella, this is Nicky."

Adrian held Nicky up by both arms as the boy leaned against Adrian's legs. The first thing I noticed were Nicky's beautiful eyes and his smile. The second thing I noticed, were his legs and one foot. His left leg was inverted, crooked inward, while his foot was completed crooked outward. His head drooped to one side due to the muscles in his neck, and his trunk was compromised, folding over like an accordion.

"Hi Nicky," I said gently, waving. Cerebral palsy was the first notion to pop into my head, although I was quick to dissolve that theory.

"Hi!" Nicky said, his words slurred through a speech impediment. He leaned his head up and glancing wide-eyed at his big brother. "Is she your girlfriend, Adi..." he said, through the cutest giggles ever.

"Yes," Adrian returned with a goofy smile, ruffling Nicky's hair. It seemed to put Nicky off balance, and he wavered, but Adrian caught him with a strong grasp. "You wanna walk over and say hi? Go say hi!" Adrian gently let go of Nicky's arms, watched and walked behind him as Nicky teetered back and forth, and his inverted left leg made him trip and fall. "Careful," Adrian said gently, helping Nicky back up. Nicky eventually made his way over to me, and hugged my legs.

My heart melted twice over. "Hi," I said gently, patting his back. "Nice to meet you, Nicky." Over Nicky's shoulder, I saw Adrian looking at me softly, and I wanted to cry right then and there.

Eventually, we made our way downstairs, where Adrian's father Jesse was behind the bar; he saw us all and grinned; now I know where Adrian gets his smile.

"You didn't tell me you brought a girl, Adrian," Jesse teased, his voice smooth and velvet like. He wore a black button down rolled up to the elbows, with tight fitted jeans. He had Adrian's eyes but they were darker, hidden by longish black locks and complimented by an olive-skinned, handsome face.

"What's up, Pop?" Adrian asked, grinning as he went in for a hug. Jessie gave him a real hug, not a lame half assed man hug, but a _real_ one, where he wrapped his arms around him and held him for half a second.

"Who's this?" Jesse asked, a friendly smile lighting up his whole face. "Are you the girl whose got my son's head in the clouds? Suddenly Angela's class is his favorite place to be." Jesse playfully jabbed Adrian in the stomach with his elbow.

"I'm Ella," I said, and I caught Jesse's eyes flicker to my legs.

"Nice to meet you Ella, I'm Jesse." Jesse insisted on cooking on a little something for each of us , so while he was in and out of the kitchen, he was illustrating his vision for his Jazz club: undiscovered acts and legends, a hangout, a place to relax, a bar with Spanish and Greek Tapas. "I traveled a lot after I dropped out of college; Spain a bunch of times, Italy, Portugal, Argentina. They invite me back to Jazz Festivals," he said. I went on to tell him about my travels in Europe, and we bonded over Mona Lisa and the Sagraada Familia.

Jesse treated me as if he'd known me forever, promising not to embarrass Adrian and all that. Although conversation flowed smoothly, I couldn't stop thinking about little Nicky. That's where my thoughts remained as I sat on a bench outside the restaurant, as the clock neared 5:00 in the evening. That's why Adrian knew how to handle himself around me; that's why he knew how to hold my crutches, how to hold my hand tight enough to let me feel stable; how to hold me when we kissed so I didn't lose my balance. How he knew to photograph me. It's how he knew to treat me like a real person, and not like I'm made of glass.

All I could think was, I could probably fall in love with this boy someday.

Adrian sat next to me on the bench, and we looked at each other, and at the busy street in front of us, the silence growing heavy for the first time ever. "Nicky has Spina bifida," Adrian said, his voice quivering a little. I wanted to grab his hand but I held back. "He was born with it...I wanted to tell you, but I just didn't want you to think..." Adrian sighed heavily and shut his lips tightly, ending the thought.

"That you only started talking to me because of your brother?" I finished for him, and the silence seemed to shatter. "I wouldn't have thought that...my first thought was CP, and that freaked me out a little...but now this makes sense."

"Sure it didn't scare you off?" Adrian asked, in a self-deprecating way I'm too familiar with.

"What? No," I told him seriously. "I could ask the same of you." My tone was harsh, but it was too late to take back.

"I didn't mean it like that," Adrian stuttered for the first time ever. "I didn't...I don't see you that way."

"But I have it," I told him bluntly, and I saw his cheeks rise in color.

"I know you do. But it doesn't...define you," Adrian said, and I could tell he was choosing his words _very _carefully.

I stared at him and sat with the words for a little while. If my cerebral palsy didn't define me, then why do I feel like it does? It follows me everywhere like a shadow, weighs me down like a boulder in my pocket. The only way to be free of it, was to simply be free of me.

"I really don't want to end today with you mad at me," Adrian said quietly, and I barely heard him.

"I'm not mad at you. I'm just...learning a whole lot about you. I really like all of it." I placed two kisses on his cheek, and we sat and watched the cars roll by.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Only six days later did Peyton find herself in for a very late night at the office, crammed in paper work and demos and lineups for new artists. John Knight had upped the deadline for Chris' EP, so Keller was also working very hard, which meant the record label owner and musician were spending an awful lot of time together, miraculously without strangling each other. This night wasn't any different, and Peyton moved from her desk chair to leaning against her desk on the floor, her legs crossed and her laptop on her lap.

"You wanna take a break and have a drink with me?" Chris asked, holding two glasses in his hands. He sat cross legged next to Peyton on the floor, trying really hard not to stare at her legs. Before Peyton could answer, Chris poured Cognac into her glass and into his. "I knew you'd probably refused if I tried to bring you to the drinks, so instead I brought the drinks to you."

"Subtle."

Chris smirked, raising the glass in the air. "I know what I want. Here's to surviving the rest of the night."

Peyton shook her head, saw that glint in Chris' eyes, before raising her glass and taking a sip.

-x-x-x-**EGS**-x-x-x

It was six days later and I was in the middle of my one of many "hell weeks" where I was buried to my neck in homework and readings and projects, and I was forced to stay up until ungodly hours, hunched over the kitchen table and fighting to keep upright. My eyes blinked tiredly but I was determined to fight it off.

I was working diligently until I heard a crash outside, and my whole body stiffened. I really should've left and gone upstairs, but I stayed planted in my seat. I heard the door open and straggling footsteps make their way toward me. I knew it was my father without looking, and I kept my eyes on my Biology readings, wary of his every movement. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and sent a text to Catherine.

Dad stumbled into the room, holding onto the wall in another one of his drunken stupors. I froze and pretended not to see him. He didn't even acknowledge me, walking past me towards the stove. My nervousness rose uncontrollably as I watched this shell of my father fumble with the controls of the stove, and I heard the _click, click _of the gas line.

"What are you doing?" Against my better judgment, I stood from my chair. I really didn't feel like getting blown up.

"Trying to make...coffee," Dad said, his speech slurred.

I rolled my eyes and moved to stand next to him. "Stop, you could start a fire," I snapped, turning off the stove. Dad went to move backwards, and as I was standing behind him, I lost my balance at his sudden movements. He didn't notice because he was so drunk, and he backed into me, sending me stumbling.

In an effort to protect my back, I twisted to face forward but it was too late to catch myself with my arms. I let out a small gasp before banging my chin, hard, on the kitchen floor. I breathed out a curse and decided to remain still, before opening my eyes and seeing a puddle of fresh blood under my chin.

"Are you...OK?" Dad asked, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. "I didn't mean-"

"Don't touch me!" I shouted, cowering away from him. My body curled into the fetal position and froze in shock, blood leaking from my chin by each passing second.

"What happened?" Jamie asked loudly, coming down the stairs in pajamas.

"Get him away from me!" I screamed, squirming on the floor as the blood spread down my neck. My arms were numb, my heart was pounding but I didn't dare move.

"What..."

"JAMIE! Get him away from me, he's drunk!" I shouted louder, and not a sound could be heard. I moved carefully to lie on my back, and Jamie's mouth dropped open at all the blood.

My father had cowered back against the wall and was trembling. "I didn't mean..."

Jamie walked toward my dad and grabbed him forcefully by the arm. "No, you're drunk off your ass," he snarled, "Come on." He led my father out of the room."You OK, Ella?"

"GET OUT!" I screamed, biting back my tears. My body was too frozen to move even an inch, so I just lie there in my own blood.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It felt like forever until I heard Catherine's voice scream my name. "Oh my God!" she shouted, running and kneeling by my side. "What happened?" she breathed, gently moving my hand away from my chin. When she saw the blood, the light drained from her eyes.

"He knocked me over, drunk," I said shakily, my breathing shallow. Catherine reached for a wet rag from the counter and pressed it against my chin, cradling my head under her right arm as she moved hair away from my face.

"Who?" Catherine asked, her voice low. After a moment, her face paled more than I'd ever seen. "Your dad?"

"It was an accident," I said, a tear falling down my face.

At that moment, we heard the front door open, and my mother walked in from a late night at the office. When she saw me and the blood, she gasped and screamed my name, "Ella! What happened? Why are you on the floor!" her voice was trembling and her knees shook. "You're cut, oh my God..."

"It was an accident," I mumbled, cowering into Catherine's body. My mother tried to help me up off the floor gently. "I can't...can't get up."

"What do you mean!" Mom shouted, her nervousness fading into anger.

"She's in shock," Catherine told her. "Come on," she urged, sitting me up while still pressing the rag to my face.

"How did this happen?" Mom asked me, her palm on my cheek.

I looked at Catherine, and she swallowed. "Lucas knocked her over."

Mom paled and she searched my eyes. "_What?" _

"He was drunk," I spat maniacally, and I could tell Mom was fearful of the rage in my eyes. With tears streaking down my face and blood dripping onto my neck, Isked her, "Do you think he's an alcoholic _now?" _

Tears pricked my mother's eyes and she kissed me on my temple, before I could move away from her touch. She helped me up from the floor, before putting a coat on me and taking me to the emergency room. I held onto Catherine's steady hand tighter than I ever have.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was a Thursday night. I hadn't looked my father in the eye, and he avoided me at all costs. I was restless, and that's when I heard the screaming. I tried to block it out, until Jamie came in. My room was pitch black, but I could hear his gentle breathing. "Jamie?" My voice trembled and shook with tears. My cousin was in and out of the room, and I wanted it to just stop.

"Yeah?"

"Can you tell me a story?"

"I...I can't Ella," Jamie said, as we both quietened because the yelling overtook us. "I'm reading something."

"Please don't leave," I cried, twisting in my bedsheets. "What are you reading?"

Jamie sighed, before sitting on the edge of my bed. "_The Tempest._"

"What's it about?" I asked, staring at my ceiling and silently humming a song.

Jamie cleared his throat and his voice cut through the darkness, "It's about a man named Prospero, who conjures up a...storm, on an island... and it causes a shipwreck."

I was so distraught by my parents fighting that I was convinced Jamie was making it up. "What else?"

Jamie began to explain, before we heard frantic footsteps, and we grew dead silent. When we heard something shatter against the wall, I jumped out of bed and into the hallway.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucas ran a hand through his hair and sighed. A long day at the Auto Shop had left him exhausted and covered in grime. He stopped to see Peyton sitting on the stairwell, her body trembling with anger. She was ghostly pale and there was a coldness in her eyes that Lucas had never seen before. It scared the shit out of him. She gestured to Lucas' navy blue duffel bag by the door. "Is that yours? Where are you going?"

Lucas swallowed and looked his wife in the eye. It had gone too far, it was beyond repair; him staying would just be self-destructive. "I was thinking...I never meant to hurt Ella," he said, his lips trembling and filling in tears.

"Well you did," Peyton answered coldly, and the house was silent for her. "She had to go get stitches in her chin, and now she has _another_ scar; this time on her beautiful face." A tear fell over Peyton's nose and lips. "What's the matter with you? What happened to the man I married?" Peyton's voice rose but she remained sitting. "You have me worried sick, and I keep having to clean you up. You hurt our baby, and now I can't even look at you without getting nauseous."

Lucas flinched, closed his eyes and opened them again. "I should just go, then," he said, his body shaking. He leaned against the wall so he didn't collapse or throw up.

Peyton eyed the bag by the door and breathed through her tears. "You already made up your mind. Oh my God..." she silenced, before staring at him for a long while. She'd never been one to search his clothes or smell his shirt collars for the smell of another woman, but Lucas' late nights and his distance still led Peyton to ask, quietly and calmly, "Are you fucking someone?"

Lucas stared at her, the wind getting knocked out of him for a second. "Jesus Christ, Peyton..."

"Are you?" Peyton yelled, standing up to her feet.

"No!" Lucas shouted, "Jesus, there's...there's no other woman. There's no one else. I only want you."

Peyton stared at him before laughing humorlessly, wiping her green eyes of more tears. "You only want me, Luke? When's the last time we were together? When's the last time you touched me?"

Lucas didn't want to answer, because it hurt him more to say it.

"Are we ever going to have sex again?" Peyton asked, this time her voice dulled to a whisper. "I can't take being celibate from you anymore."

Lucas rubbed his forehead before spewing, "Call Chris Keller, then!"

He immediately regretted it when he saw the hurt and fear in Peyton's eyes. He watched as she walked over, grabbed a small glass figurine that was years old, and hurled it at him. "FUCK you!"

Lucas muttered a curse and ducked his head as the figurine smashed into pieces against the wall. "Damn it...I didn't mean that," he said, taking a step toward her.

Peyton backed away, crying. "Yes, you did. You meant all of it. You haven't even looked at me since I lost the baby. I tell you I want you, and there's nothing. I tell you I love you, so much it _hurts_, and you don't hold me. Is this how it's gonna be, Luke?"

"I don't want it to be like this."

"So FIX IT!" Peyton screamed, her body trembling.

"I'm trying..." Lucas shouted. "I hurt her Peyton, you're right. I hurt my daughter and it kills me...I can't be here. I can't be here right now," Lucas breathed, and he got dizzy as the room began to spin.

"After 15 incredible years, you're walking out on us?"

"I just...I need...I can't be here," Lucas said again, backing up toward the door. He grabbed his navy duffle bag full of clothes for the week and his laptop, and turned the door handle. His body shivered at the cold, late October air.

"Lucas... if you walk out, I swear to GOD you're not walking back in here!"

Luke turned to face his wife one last time, before walking out of the door and shutting it behind him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	12. Author's Note: I AM STILL HERE! :)

6/8/13

Hi you guys,

I **_know_** it sucks that I am teasing you with an Author's Note- sorry! I've had a crazy few weeks, what with moving home after a year in college (aka adjusting AGAIN) and all of that. Truth is, I've been able to pull out of a pretty heavy funk through lots of help- it took a very long time, but now I feel as though I am in a good enough place to continue writing my stories. Sometimes I tend to jump into things because they make me feel better, but...I have learned the hard way that the mental state of the writer is a reflection of the writing itself. Call it an epiphany of sorts. After a year in college, I can see that it's always easier to take a step back from all the mess and gray area of what's around me to realize what is buried in between the lines; the story I'm really trying to tell, if you will.

It's taken a lot of thought and consideration, but the light has turned on and I now know Ella's story- not just the beginning and the end- but the middle, too. The same goes for Lucas/Peyton of course, and the rest. It's going to take some time to work out the kinks so I can start weaving the thread of the story that You Are Not Alone has evolved into. I don't want to have you waiting for months again- and you WILL NOT- but I am getting there guys….I am just glad that writing has the power and the ability to forgive and "pull me out of it."

A very special thank you to both **LEYTONchilarie** and **Othello** for their kind words and encouragement. Sometimes a nudge (however small) is the first step.

I WILL BE BACK SOON! It's gonna be great! Here's to being truly inspired again.

-M


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